Sweat was pouring down over his face, blurring his vision.

He blinked through it, his attention fixed on his foe, not about to allow respite or recovery.

He attacked, his foe blocked. He attacked again, his foe parried. Again, and his foe jumped over the slash.

Again and again Carver advanced though, constantly shifting to the left and right, his thrusts and slashes not as wild as they'd once been. Controlled, short, swift, conserving the energy needed for the greater blows to later as he instead again and again prodded his foe's defences.

His foe, hiding behind a by now battered heater shield, defended himself expertly, but Carver gave him no respite, forcing the man to constantly move the heavy defence and to strain his already wheezy breath.

I'll beat him this time, I will, I feel it.

He cut at his foe's low left, forcing the shield low. Then the high right, forcing the shield to move up to deflect the blow and for his foe to take a step to the side. Circling, Carver thrust at his foe's lower right, making his foe twist uncomfortably to get the shield down in time.

Now!

Carver jumped back, feigned a high swing that would smash over his foe's shield, and once it was raised to deflect the blow, turned the swing into a low lunge.

Within an inch from his foe's wide eyes, the blunted sword was pushed aside by a swift shield. NOW! Carver, using the momentum given to his sword by his foe's parry, swung his blade over his head counter-clockwise, the blow lacking in finesse, but holding great speed and force as it parted air on its way to his foe's left shoulder.

A groan, and his foe was on one knee, shield loudly cracking as Carver's arms momentarily went numb as his sword bounced off the block his foe by all right shouldn't have managed. No!

His foe lunged, it was so sudden and unexpected given the battering the man had taken, that Carver nearly didn't react in time, the flat of a cold blade brushing his cheek as he pulled his head back. NO!

Rushing out from his kneeling position, his foe swung his shield, slamming aside Carver's blade as the man tried to recover it into a defensive guard, and then his foe's sword shot out again, from low to-

Pain!

Gasping, Carver staggered back, fire racing out from a spot between his ribs. Growling, he tried to regain his balance, to bring his sword back-

Pain!

The third lunge of his foe's blade was as quick as the first, and Carver's pain was as much in his gut as his pride as his sword fell from numb fingers and he dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach at the agony caused by the blunted blade.

In front of him, his foe tossed shield and sword aside and threw his arms out, grin wide with approval. "Excellent! Most excellent! I'm amazed! I'm astonished! I'm bedazzled!"

Carver arched an eyebrow, forcing himself to take ever deeper breaths as the pain began to fade, his knee quavering as he moved it up so he could at least save some dignity by staying on one knee. So close...

"Just a few months of training with me, and you've come this far!?" The grey-haired Master shook his head, looking genuinely astonished and pleased. "What talent is in you, boy!" Is he just messing with me now...? "You had me on the ropes! Me! A Master since fifteen years back, nearly beaten by a man who's trained with the templars for what feels like a blink of an eye!"Or maybe...he's not? Carver managed a hesitant smile. "If not for the required years of service, I'd motion to make you a Master in the next six months if this keeps up...and you can only get better now." The veteran Templar's grin faded, but only to be replace by something akin to a proud smile. "I see great things ahead of you, serah Hawke."

Carver rose to his feet, smile hesitant, yet shoulders straight. Serah Hawke, serah Carver Hawke... "I'm glad you find me worthy despite my failure, Master Ermaz."

"It's not failure when in training, it's learning." The old Master replied with a wry look...one that exploded into a grin a second later. "Besides, that one was close..." Grimacing, the Master rubbed his shield-arm, looking down at the battered shield he'd been using, tone low. "Think I'll use a buckler next time, or I won't be able to keep up with you..." Carver's smile turned more genuine as the man threw his stomach a glance. "And stop recovering so quickly, you make me feel my age, boy."

"It's not age weakening you yet, Master, simply a young man fitter than most will ever be or can be."

That voice! Carver, so stunned at hearing the voice he'd before only heard at mass, was several moments slower than Ermaz to turn to face the source and slip onto one knee, head bowed low in respect. Ermaz, though kneeling, spoke with the casualness of a familiarity that Carver could only wonder at. "Perhaps you are right, though I must confess that my knees creak like rusty hinges when I get out of bed by now."

A chuckle, polite, yet restrained. "If you're trying to ask for retirement, stop right there, I need you too much."

"Of course, serah, I live to serve...besides, I have to be present to watch this young man grow into greatness, it's a one in a lifetime opportunity!" His head still bowed, Carver felt his cheeks flush even as a smile stole its way back to his face.

"As always, too keen to hand out praise." Meredith's voice was colder this time, curt and short. "Please, leave us."

"Of course, Knight-Commander, excuse me." Carver listened with growing fright as Master Ermaz rose to his feet and moved for the door, steps slow but steady. What does she want with me? Is this about Garrett? Eugh, I hope not. Or...not Merrill...? Fear gripped Carver at the thought. I won't let you be hurt, even I know what they'd do to a mage that has been loose for so long...

I should let her go, or the thought of her, at least. But those eyes...they follow me in my dreams... Internally, Carver groaned, he know what love unreachable did, it made one want it even more, he'd used it himself on girls back in the old days...and didn't much care for the karma now handed out to him. Stop thinking about her, idiot, the Knight-Commander is here!

With sickening finality, the door behind the Master clicked shut, leaving Carver alone with the much feared and respected Knight-Commander. When she spoke, it was with a certain gravity, making every word seem a dire portent. "Ermaz, as always, exaggerates too much...but in the same time, he's right. You have proven yourself extremely skilled in the art of combat." She's...noticed me? Carver swallowed, struggling to keep his head low. "Your templar skills are growing at an impressive rate and even your regular studies have seen a great improvement...it's impressive to see such devotion to the cause, or maybe it's your own ambition to be good at what you do, I don't rightly care. What's important is what you are, not why." Erm...thank you? Was that an insult or a compliment? "And do get up, I don't want to spend our time talking to the back of your head."

Carver found his body obeying the command, despite his nervousness making him feel weak. When he looked up, he found the Knight-Commander a few feet away, stern brow furrowed at him. Carver shifted where he stood, he knew she wasn't giving him a disapproving stare, it was just the usual look on her face...yet to be under her scrutiny was...unpleasant. "Yes, Knight-Commander."

"Yes?" Meredith repeated, almost sounding...amused? "That's all you have to say? Your brother seemed more eloquent...guess it doesn't run in the family."

Carver found his eyes flashing, words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop himself, hands clenched tight at his sides. "What do you want me to say?" Shut up, man, you'll get yourself whipped. "I know who I am and what I've accomplished, I'm not about to explain either."

Meredith's smile was a thin line. "Good, you and I are of the same mind in this then." She turned away from him, hands behind her back as she paced a few steps away from him. "You are a skilled Templar, one still with a lot of untapped potential...must be that lauded Hawke blood." She shot a glance back, noting his sudden scowl with an arched eyebrow before turning away again. "Still, I do not wish to take this away from you, this is your accomplishment, nothing else."

Grunting, Carver shifted where he stood, still not sure where the Knight-Commander was going with the conversation. "Thank you."

"Many outside the order would say it's not as good as your brother's..." Meredith turned around as Carver once more scowled. "...but I'd disagree."

Carver, feeling his face flush with anger as he clenched his fists tight, didn't reply. Always the damn comparing, always me bloody ending up short, always...Maker, I'm in what sometimes feel like a separate world and still his shadow hunts me!

Meredith, seemingly oblivious to his anger, continued. "Sure, he is a noble, respected and rich..." Oh yes, keep telling me how great he is... "But one breeds the other, what's wealth but a roll of fortune to most? Nobility comes with wealth in Kirkwall, as does respect..." Blinking, Carver looked to Meredith, finding her face looking like it was chiselled from marble, all stoic and unwavering. "What do they out there know of the accomplishments and strains of a templar?" She put a hand on Carver's shoulder, it was heavy, and the grip firm. As was her gaze. "Any achievement of yours is three times as great as a similar one done by someone on the outside."

Carver found himself swallowing, the word tumbling out of his mouth meek. "Why?"

"We are not challenged by the everyday hurdles of normal life. We face magic and demons every day, even when we do not know it." Meredith's face hardened. "Even now, some blood-mage is out there, trying to corrupt a templar or to free more of his hidden kin within the Circle. When others can relax and feel safe, we must train and meditate and remain vigilant. We are the last wall of defence against the horrors that are on the other side of the Veil...do you know what those horrors are?"

"I've read-"

"Reading is not experiencing." Meredith snapped, though not unkindly, the harshness coming as naturally to her as breathing. "I've seen it, many times, in many guises. It could be the harmless librarian suddenly turning her books into raging infernos. It could be some merchant with a dark secret turning mad and slaughtering an entire village with his bare hands. It could be an innocent child, looking up at you in fear...and then exploding as a monster takes her place." Meredith didn't look away, didn't waver...but the grip on Carver's shoulder tightened for a moment at her own words. "And you think that's bad...that that's the worst part?"

"It's...not?" Carver caught himself swallowing.

"No..." Meredith shook her head. "The biggest threat to you is yourself, your doubts, your nature , your wish to always do the right thing." She let go of Carver's shoulder, taking a step back, her features even tighter than normal. "What harm could it do, to let the poor results of a mage not lead to him being turned tranquil? Nothing, often, then sometimes...hundreds dead. Why not look the other way, when you sense a little child riding on his father's shoulders is growing into a mage? They look so happy..." Meredith's eyes flashed, cold ice behind them. "...and then the child, weeks later, feeds on his father's still beating heart, because you didn't do anything." Carver, transfixed, felt a cold bead of sweat run down his spine. "Or that young little girl, not knowing what's happening to her, afraid, clutching at your leg, begging you to spare her...it wasn't her fault she was born with too much power for a mortal body, after all."

Carver cleared his throat, he'd received many a speech from Garrett, but Meredith's was more...terrifying. I'll have to face these things, I have to...Maker. "I'll...try to do right."

"That's what I said as well." Meredith's smile was cold, yet sad. "But what is right? I've seen hundreds burn because I failed to act. I've had to put down a child turned monster. I've had to watch a girl, screaming in terror to her last breath, warp into a demon because I failed to act." A deep breath, and then Meredith continued, merciless. "I've also seen a dozen poor mages avoid the clutches of demons. I've seen people in their late teens and even older come to the circle, parents unharmed. I've seen powerful children somehow, with all their might, wrest control over their minds and keep the demons at bay."

"So...?" Carver, now confused, dreaded the answer.

"You do what's safe." Meredith concluded. "Maybe it won't happen, maybe everything will be fine...but you do not know, you cannot know, so you act to what's safest." The words, like nails, struck into Carver. Merciless, Meredith continued. "And for the rest of your life, you will wonder...would he have done okay? Would she have survived? Would the world have been a better place without you acting...?"

Carver took a step back, the level of responsibility implied in Meredith's words staggering. Maker, I'm over my head... "Does it...does it get easier? To bear, I mean?"

"Doubt is the gateway for desire." Meredith scowled back, then shook her head, scowl easing somewhat. "Yet we're only human, however much we must strive to be otherwise." She paused there, letting the words linger. "Do you now understand why our deeds carry so much weight, why the worthiness of our actions should be seen as greater than those outside the order?"

"I...yes." I hope so.

"Good, now onto the business at hand." Meredith put her hands behind her back, standing even straighter than normal, enough to make her seem equal to Carver in height. "First of all, I saw your brother at the latest party of the Reinharts..." Eugh, not again. Arching an eyebrow at Carver's grimace, the woman continued. "Seems he's been funding the city guard a lot." Really? I thought him too cheap for that...must have a reason. "And I find that the city guard now disregard most if not all my orders...pardon me for saying..." You don't look sorry. "...but I find that a curious coincidence."

Carver hesitated...but then shrugged, he wasn't about to lie on Garrett's behalf, but neither to damage him. I'm better than that. "My brother has never had much good to say about our order, Knight-Commander, but I doubt he'd try to act against it in this way, he has nothing to gain from it. My guess this is due to their Captain...Aveline can be a bit...prickly about feeling anyone encroaching on her territory."

"Magic concerns all, none should or can be excused from duty against its dangers." Meredith shook her head, visibly annoyed. "Anyway, as you say then...though apparently he spent most of that party, as I've heard told, in the company of a young elven woman..." Carver blinked. He what...!? Him? Garrett!? With a woman? With an elven woman!? "Considering her markings, it's even said she's Dalish."

A...wha...?

Scrutinizing whatever look Carver's face bore, Meredith continued, voice level. "Yes, a Dalish, I know, hard to believe. Those heathens are dangerous beyond compare, elven communities are perhaps natural, but these people worship strange gods and allow magic to run rampant in their midst, even encouraging it. As far as the order is concerned, they're as bad as Tevinters, if not worse, since they respect no boundaries." She cocked her head to the side, eyes narrowed. "So I must ask...do you know of this woman? Would she perhaps be...influencing him? Magic or not, Dalish values and believes would be most dangerous and perhaps be driving his actions...?"

Carver, still thunderstruck, stood there, staring at the Knight-Commander.

Who frowned back, a hint of anger in her eyes. "Remember, I'm your Knight-Commander, you must answer."

"I...forgive me, serah..." Carver struggled to find his voice, looking away as he swallowed, hands closing into impotent fists. That son of a...I can't believe...after he strictly forbade me to even see her, he takes her on a...a...

"Hawke?"

MAKER DAMN HIM! Carver slammed his fist into his thigh, fury gripping his heart as he stared into a wall, wanting it to crumple before him.

"Templar! Answer me!"

Meredith's growled order managed to bring some order to Carver's raging thoughts, like a lid upon a boiling pot. "I...sorry, I was taken by surprise." Carver spoke the words through gritted teeth. "I...know of the woman you speak of..." I...she's...maybe it's all a mistake and...damn him, he...no...she's too nice to be... "...she's not a mage, nor do I think she can influence him. My brother is very good at making his own path and to make decisions on his own, none tell him what to do...in fact the only thing I'd expect is for him to influence her." To the worse. "She's unimportant."

"I...see." For a moment, there seemed to be a hint of softness in Meredith's eyes as she looked to him. Then it was gone in the blink of an eye, the woman all hard as steel again as she spoke. "Thank you for your honesty, Hawke, it seems Knight-Captain Cullen was right about you, your results and our conversation confirms as such." She glanced down, looking at Carver's clenched fist pressed into his thigh, then looked up. The smile she offered was pale and curt, but there none the less. "I believe I've made my decision, you'll make an excellent advisor on politics in the city, it's clear that I need one."

Me? Advisor? I...me?! Carver wasn't sure if to be terrified of such a duty, or proud. "I'm...honoured."

Mostly, his rage kept such thoughts back though. He hates elves, he told me to not see her, to avoid her, that she was not to be pursued, that she was off-limits. He was downright hostile to her.

And now, he takes her there, to a party, as his...companion? What, like some courtesan? His personal whore, like half the other nobles do? Is he for real? The nerve, the hypocrisy...

Meredith's smile was cold, the woman nodding. "Good, I hope to take you under my wing, Hawke, to make you Knight-Captain in time, when you've proven yourself. Congratulations, you've earned it."

Carver nodded, numb on the inside, fuming on the outside, mind a buzz of confusion.

How could he do this...?

8

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Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for polishing that ego until it shines.