They were alone.
After having Anders treat Carver's injury, which had surprisingly turned out to be a small dislocation in his back, Garrett had sent the others off so he and Anders could speak in private in the mage's private room. It was partly out of respect for Anders' privacy, the man did seem edgy at the prospect at their talk...but mostly it was to get Carver out of harm's way if things turned ugly, Garrett was, after all, not sure what to make of the man before him.
Folding his arms over his chest and leaning his back against an old wooden pillar, Garrett watched Anders as the mage worked on the map over the Deep Roads. The mage was frowning, bent over one of the tables usually used for treating the sick and injured coming to his sanctuary, his hands busy holding down a big piece of parchment and sketching out the entrances and tunnels of the Deep Roads, and showing a surprisingly artistic skill at it too.
"There." Straightening, Anders rolled up the map and placed it on Garrett's side of the table. "One map of the Deep Roads...or at least the parts I know of, enough for your Bartrand fellow, I wager." He met Garrett's gaze, though with his hood up his now normal eyes were almost lost in the shadows. He sighed. "Which means...I suppose...that you want an explanation."
"Yes." Garrett responded, not moving from where he stood, ignoring the map for the moment. "I would expect charging out like that from Isabela, and I distinctly remember us agreeing to avoid any confrontations...yet I'm certain you had little choice or control over what you did, that you didn't actually look for a fight, which puts you a step above Isabela." He paused, narrowing his eyes. "But only slightly."
"I understand." Anders replied, his voice calm, weary. "As to my explanation...I suppose the whole thing started when I fled the Circle for...what was it...the twenty-first time?" Something akin to a chuckle escaped his mouth, but it swiftly died. "Found myself caught, as I usually am, in Amaranthine, by this cute little raven-haired beauty...then these Darkspawn fellows decided to sack the castle...and in a curious chain of events...I find myself recruited into the Wardens by their Ferelden commander, funny how life goes, eh?"
"You mean Lynn Tabris?" Garrett blinked, though he wasn't as excited about the whole hero thing as Carver or Aveline, even he was impressed by the tales of the elf. "The Lynn Tabris?"
"That's the one." A grimace of pain, or was it anger, appeared on the mage's thin lips. "Harsh woman...could scare the skin off a Hurlock just by glaring at it, practical, no sense of justice, only power." What's with him and justice...? Garrett frowned, he had little in the way of love for Ferelden, but badmouthing her hero was a bit much even to him. "Anyway, we fought a campaign in Amaranthine, trying to rid it of a surprisingly subtle campaign by the Darkspawn...and there, in the Deep Roads...I died."
Garret blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Just...listen." Anders held up a hand to ask for silence. "I died, frozen solid by a spell too great for me, then shattered into tiny pieces...dead as dead can be." The mage shuddered. "My spirit wandered the fade...going...somewhere, I no longer know." Another pause, this time accompanied with a frown aimed at the table as Anders considered how to best explain it. "But the campaign was still going on...and Lynn had recruited...and then in anger slain...a spirit of the fade that had been bound to a dead Warden...a spirit of...Justice." The mage looked up with a smirk. "Crazy, huh?"
Garrett straightened, a shiver running down his spine as trepidation took hold, he was no mage, but he remembered his father's lessons of the fade. "Go on..."
"Justice had been dragged out of the Fade by a demon of pride, and now he had no body, no way to do what he was meant to do..." Anders looked away, fingers drumming on the table. "But he had, in a way, been a Warden, as had I...perhaps it was the taint that drew him, perhaps it was my hidden feelings of how unjust the world had been to me...but Justice found himself drawn to me." A little chuckle escaped him. "What a curious conversation that was, a mortal stuck in the Fade, speaking to a spirit stuck in the mortal realm..."
"I..." Garrett inched away, swallowing as he placed a hand on the pommel of his sword, unsure if he was hearing correctly, or if the mage was playing some sort of prank on him. If so, it's in bad taste...
"He offered a deal...he needed to do justice, to perform his purpose, and a body to do it with, I needed a body as well, to return to the mortal realm instead of aimlessly drifting among the currents of the Fade, to...put right what I felt had been wronged to me." Anders looked back up at Garrett, a smirk on his lips as he ignored the tense stance of the man he was speaking to. "We felt like...kindred spirits, if you'll excuse the pun."
Garrett only stared at him, old lessons of his father sifting through his mind, warnings meant for Bethany about the dangers of demons and the Fade...
"I allowed him to reforge my body, piece after piece, he put me together, drawing me back to the mortal realm..." Anders shrugged. "It...hurt...but when it was done, I was alive again, and within me I had found a friend."
"You're...an abomination." Garrett drew his sword.
"Don't call me that!" Anders snapped, apparently more concerned about the name than the blade pointed at him. "An abomination is a demon, a creature of evil that has possessed an unwilling or foolish pawn! Justice is not a demon, but a spirit, one of the first children of the Maker himself, and I am no unwilling pawn but a friend of him! I am the one in control!"
Garrett lowered his sword, but only an inch as his eyes narrowed. "Didn't look like that before."
The angry air around Anders died in an instant, the man looking away with a sigh. "Yes...sometimes...when I get angry...Justice has no ability to control himself, or understand patience, he's justice, and he must act...so when I lose control he appears...but neither of us is really in control."
"Sounds like a rage demon." Garrett snapped, despite feeling a bit calmer, he knew his father's lessons well; he knew the difference between a spirit and a demon...Anders had been, in comparison to what could have happened...lucky.
"A rage demon is a creature of mindless violence, Justice acts with purpose!" Anders snapped back, apparently ready to defend his 'friend'.
Single-mindedness is still dangerous... Garrett didn't say it, instead he chose to change the topic to something less volatile. "Before, you spoke of putting right what had been wronged you, and Justice to need a purpose...am I right in assuming this has something to do with mages and you smuggling them out of the Circle?"
Anders relaxed a bit as he nodded. "Perceptive...and yes, it is. You have never been in the Circle, you have not seen how it is, but as I understand it from your brother you should have been told by your father what kind of power the Chantry has over the mages...it's nothing short of slavery, of oppression. This needs to change; to be born with magic is not a sin. You cannot punish someone and lord over them simply because they are different...surely you agree?"
"I do." Garrett nodded, lowering and then sheathed his sword. "I have lived with Bethany long enough to know she's neither evil nor out of control, despite not being in the Circle."
"Exactly!" Anders raised his voice, excitement in it as he thumped a fist into the table. "This oppression has no place in the world where they claim slavery to be at an end! Andraste herself fought for the freedom of all! Mages are not to be made Tranquil, no matter the reason! They are not to be caged and taught how to use their magic just so they can be used as weapons against the Qunari and other nations! They are not to create runes and magical items so the Chantry can fill its fat coffers even more!" He shook his head angrily, a flash of blue in his eyes fading the moment it appeared as he lowered his voice. "A mage is a man or a woman, a human or an elf...what right do people have to single them out as monsters and then use them for their own benefit? Who is the monster in such a scenario...?"
"I see where you're getting at...and I agree, things need to change." Garrett watched Anders smile at that, as if he'd never heard anyone agree with him ever before. "However, Karl did have a point, the Chantry is immensely powerful, and I doubt it will be open to such changes, how do you intend to change things?"
"I'm already doing it." Anders replied, a grin in his voice as he leant closer, eyes flashing with enjoyment. "With every mage I smuggle out of the Circle, the Chantry's claim of them being dangerous and in need of being caged rings a little more hollow. With every family reunited with their lost son or daughter, the Chantry's claim of protecting them from their own blood is shown to be false. With every freed mage's story of what he'd endured, the Chantry's façade of caring for those they have kidnapped is cracked, revealing the filth beneath..." His voice had lowered to a hiss. "And then..."
"Then...?" Garrett prodded, finding himself leaning forward as well.
"Revolution." Anders growled, clearly enjoying the idea. "Mages joining with the people, telling the Chantry that enough is enough, that this slavery will no longer be tolerated, that no longer will a Templar decide if a mage should eat or starve, pray or be thrown into a cell, live or die...that they are free men and women, equals! And then, as the Chantry crumbles due to its own corruption...a juster society can step forth. One where you're not judged by the magic you control, but by the person you are, where magic and those born with it are not shunned, but embraced as the sons and daughters they are, a world where no man or woman will find themselves in bonds because of what they were born like..."
Garrett hesitated. There was a frightening gleam in Anders' eyes, a gleam of utter and complete conviction of his cause...and that coupled with the spirit inside him made him more than dangerous. "That is...quite a plan." Garrett tried. "Sounds like it'll be a bloody affair though. Don't get me wrong, I'd kill to free Bethany from the Circle, but to have a great civil war seems...counter-productive, a dead mage is no freer than one in the Circle. Would it not be better to use all you reveal to make public opinion push the Chantry into concessions...?"
"If they'd listen, sure." Anders replied, the gleam in his eyes fading and his tone carefully diplomatic. "I doubt it though."
"I wish you the best of luck then." Garrett replied diplomatically, torn whether he was supporting such a radical notion or not. Doesn't matter, I'm not here to discuss mages and their rights. "I'll just take this then." He stepped forth and picked up the map before tucking it into his belt, well aware that Varric was waiting for him just outside the door; the dwarf might be friendly and a little on the trusting side, but he was no fool. "Erm...do not take this the wrong way..." Garrett made an apologetic face. "...but I'd be lying if I said I'd feel comfortable with you around my family. Justice might be a spirit and not a demon, but still..." He held back a grimace, Bethany had already expressed an interest in seeing Anders again, no doubt craving to speak to someone in her own position, but Garrett had decided not to allow it, and no amount of her pouting would make him budge on that...
To his relief, Anders offered a weak smile, sad, but kind. "I understand perfectly well, but if any one of you require healing, I'll be here, it's the least I can do after your help." He offered his hand.
Garrett hesitated, but then took it, forcing his fear aside in exchange for practicality, one never knew when a capable healer could come in handy... "Be well, Anders." He offered a nod as he held Anders gaze.
The mage smiled. "I wish you the same."
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"Wonder if it'll turn into a battle."
Carver felt some eagerness at the idea. Someone who stood out in the defence of Kirkwall might not only be rewarded with the promised sovereign for being on the walls, but also draw the attention of a noble or perhaps even the Viscount himself, a way to glory and wealth not relying on his brother's help...
A brother instantly ruining the burgeoning dream with a calm. "I doubt it."
Looking away with an irritated grimace, Carver let his gaze sweep over the walls of Kirkwall...it was an impressive sight.
Kirkwall's walls were high and thick, not to mention that they sported massive towers that were small strongholds in their own right, and since it was a trade-city, had several gates with majestic gatehouses. The defenders were a rich mix of people, and their position largely mirrored their position in Kirkwall's society.
The nobles of Kirkwall had, as their kind usually did, proudly taken up positions of honour in guarding the gatehouses. Most of them looked a bit comical in their expensive armour that they moved so awkwardly in, not surprising since they weren't warriors like the Ferelden nobility but merchants. Their bodyguards more than made up for it though, consisting of knights and men at arms that mostly hailed from Orlais, but who were all grizzled veterans by the looks of it, a small warrior elite in Kirkwall's population.
The Templars were far more numerous...and all having occupied the real positions of power on the wall, the towers, meaning that even if the walls fell and those defending those died, the Templars could fight on. The many heavily armoured and exceedingly profession warriors were not only an intimidating sight in their own right, Carver was not so foolish to not realise that they had beaten the Templars in the Chantry by Garrett's quick thinking putting them on the back foot, but were also accompanied by quite a few mages. Though the smaller frames of the robe-clad men and women looked insignificant and even frightened under the glares of their many 'guards', they would no doubt wreak havoc on anyone trying to enter with their magics.
The walls themselves were manned by the Kirkwall guard and, since they were clearly undermanned, by anyone showing aptitude with a weapon in exchange for a sovereign paid by the Viscount. Carver felt some sympathy for the guardsmen manning the walls, many of them looked very awkward standing next to brutish-looking people they were very right in suspecting to be criminals they any other day would be hunting... There was little they could do though, and the criminals were more than happy to stand next to them in silence, knowing the guards could do nothing and that they themselves would even be paid for their trouble...
As such Garrett and Carver had eagerly signed on, though Bethany once again had to stay behind due to the many Templars nearby, much to her chagrin...still, two sovereigns wasn't bad for simply standing there with your weapon. Currently they were standing with Varric and Isabela, though neither seemed particularly interested in the money as much as to see what was going on...Carver could even wager that the former was already thinking up another of his stupid stories...
Aveline cut into the brother's non-conversation, the woman standing next to them with a contingent of somewhat surly-looking guardsmen as she shot them a look. "Agreed, I doubt, what, five-hundred Qunari, could even hope to get into Kirkwall by force. For one they have no siege engines."
"No armour, probably due to that shipwreck rumour being correct." Garrett muttered. Did...Isabela flinch at that? Carver shot her a confused look, but she just smirked at him, making him look away with a grumble and a blush. He didn't really like her, but she was annoyingly...endowed.
Aveline nodded. "And they're not setting up fortifications."
"Their leader coming out to talk is also a hint." Garrett muttered without a hint of humour, though Varric still dutifully chuckled.
Shaking his head, Carver growled. "Talk? Pah! We should just tell them to leave, we have the walls and the numbers. Remember that beast back in Lothering? They're not like us."
"Correct...though I'd hardly condemn an entire people due to the actions of a single example." Garrett calmly retorted with that infuriating slightly kind look he always had when rebuking Carver, making Carver grit his teeth as that feeling of being a child in comparison once more took hold.
"Wonder what he'll do..." Isabela muttered, sounding strangely pensive as she leant her elbows on the battlement, her eyes dull.
The one she was referring to was the Viscount, the man had ridden out to meet with the Qunari leader in between the small force of Qunari and the city, a surprising show of courage of an old man Carver had heard little good about. Of course Carver held some sympathy with the man after he had seen him ride towards the gate while followed by a throng of nobles coming with suggestions, ideas or outright instructions...before scurrying off to their walls while he went to face the Qunari that even unmounted managed to dwarf the Viscount. Cowards.
Of course, Viscount Dumar was not entirely on his own, Meredith, the commander of the Templars of Kirkwall, and arguably the real power of Kirkwall, was with him. Despite her mount being as big and impressive as Dumar's, she somehow sat atop it differently, making it seem even larger, more intimidating. Her dark armour shone in the afternoon sun, as did the sword strapped to her back...an impressive sight, if she had not been a Templar anyone could take her for a warrior-queen.
Yet despite appearing far more powerful than Dumar, and being the real power in Kirkwall, the woman seemed, as far as Carver could tell from such a distance, far less interested in the discussion. In fact, Carver had seen her look at the sun several times during the deliberations between the two parties, as if a merchant checking the time, wondering when he should close shop and go home.
Instead it was the Viscount that talked, and talked, and talked...and then made the odd gesture as he talked a bit more.
It was hard to tell from a distance, but the Qunari leader didn't seem impressed...but nor upset, in fact Carver could almost imagine one of Garrett's patient looks on the giant's face as he regarded the babbling leader of the city before him. Only rarely did the Qunari seemed to speak, and when he did the viscount listened...even Meredith seemed to pay at least some attention to the man's words...before going back to being bored as Dumar once more started to speak.
"I still say he should tell them to get lost." Carver grumbled, glaring at the army outside, he still remembered that murderous beast back in Lothering, and hoped he was now dead and eaten by the Darkspawn...the idea of having an army of them within the city was abhorrent.
"It's a complex issue." Garrett muttered back, eyeing the discussion ahead with interest, as if he could actually hear the conversation. "Refusing them entry could well lead to war with the Qunari, and Kirkwall has enough problems as it is. Additionally the nobles seem interested in letting the Qunari in, seeing an opportunity for trading, I assume, this means they will pressure Dumar for letting the Qunari enter, and I do believe they have more influence than the city guard on the matter."
Aveline snorted at the words, but didn't argue.
"Also keep in mind that Dumar has little real power...though perhaps more leeway in this matter since the last batch of runaway mages are keeping the Templars attention...this means that it's not really him, but the circumstances that dictate his actions..." Carver yawned at the lecture, but Garrett ignored it. "...not to mention that Dumar has a history of indecisive actions, he's a man of compromise, not one who dictates how things are to be."
Varric let away a low whistle. "Someone has been doing his reading..."
"It's just pieces I've picked up on." Garrett dismissed the compliment with a shrug, probably not even registering it as such, much to Varric's amusement.
Aveline was frowning, eyeing the negotiations ahead. "So what do you think he should do?"
"I think Carver is correct."
"What?" Carver spluttered, so surprised it took a moment to register that Garrett was actually complimenting him.
"That unused to being right, huh? Good to know..." Carver shot Varric a glare at the words, but that only made the dwarf grin.
"As you said, we have the numbers and the walls." Garrett calmly regarded him. "These Qunari cannot enter, and considering that they live far to the north, have several nations between us and them. As such, I have difficulty seeing them mounting an expedition to besiege Kirkwall; crossing by land would initiate dozens of wars, and Kirkwall is designed to resist assaults by sea. A war would be smoke and no fire, but having Qunari within the walls...it's a different story, we have enough problems as it is...I cannot see trading opportunities as enough reason to let them in and risk even more trouble."
"Erm...well...yes...that was basically what I was saying..." Carver muttered, still somewhat taken aback. He knew his brother didn't always disagree with him, nor attempt to make him seem foolish, yet whenever they spoke Carver always found himself defensive for some reason...it was...frustrating.
"Seems they've made a decision." Isabela muttered, making Carver breathe a sigh of relief as attention was drawn from him and the subject to the sight of Dumar and Meredith wheeling their horses around and riding back towards the game.
"And the interesting one as well..." Varric replied, a twinkle in his eyes. Following his gaze, Carver saw the Qunari stride back towards the ranks of his men...and by simply raising a closed fist giving his command.
With frightening precision the block of Qunari warriors shifted, smoothly turning into a column that with barely breaking stride from the change of formation, started to march for the city.
Aveline was sighing, no doubt already imagining the troubles ahead, as she placed a gauntleted hand over her face, fingers rubbing her temples.
Garrett, on the other hand, arched an eyebrow at Varric. "Interesting?"
"Well the nobles are not the only ones seeing an opportunity here..." Varric replied, grinning.
Garrett's face twitched, a flicker of a smile appearing. "You do have a point..."
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for always being there when needed.