Isabela felt...empty.
Why am I here? I should be out at sea by now, I was so close... Yet, Isabela had cast a glance back, hesitated...and then turned around. More, she'd dodged a flood of fleeing ships just to return to the burning harbour, nearly getting killed in the process of just reaching the Viscount's keep and those within. Garrett's right, I'm an idiot.
Yet for the life of her, Isabela couldn't bring herself to regret it.
It was hard, in fact, to feel things.
She just felt tired...as if all fight had been literally beaten out of her.
Ahead of her, someone having far more cause for exhaustion soldiered on, ceaselessly climbing the spiralling stairs he'd guided her to. Behind Isabela, his Mabari, silent save the clicking of his claws against the stone, followed. She almost missed his growling, the silence surrounding the dog and man more unnerving than the previous shouts and glowers.
Isabela still wasn't sure why Garrett had saved her like she did, it sure wasn't for love of her, and he'd only confused things further when he'd demanded of the other nobles, red-faced and raging at her, to be allowed to judge her personally. Isabela couldn't understand it.
Nor could she care. I'm going to die. The thought, pushing deep into her, seemed to wring all energy out of her. Instead of powering her, of making her run, to fight...it now paralysed her, making her as meek and weak as a child. It was all so...different.
Still, she had felt some amazement at the sight of Garrett, covered in his own blood, supported by two people revealed to be mages, struggling to his feet when he should be dead...and commanding the nobles, all staring at him like he was some ghost, with the utmost calm.
Somehow, everything had worked as the man had commanded.
Somehow, he'd convinced Meredith to stand down, to let the Qunari pass, as promised.
Somehow, he'd kept the nobles silent about the obvious show of magic before the Knight-Commander's entrance.
Somehow, he'd not only stopped a battle without further bloodshed, but a future war.
Somehow, he'd made all the nobles sing his praise and name unborn children after him with a mere cut of his blade.
Somehow, he'd kept going, shrugging off the supporting hands even though he'd looked ready to fall over at a stiff breeze.
Somehow, he'd risen above them all, a giant among mortals.
Or so it had seemed at the time.
Now his steps looked tired, weary, the armour around him nearly falling apart...yet still he went on, unrelenting.
Then, suddenly, they arrived.
As Garrett stepped aside, Isabela stumbled outside, confused eyes looking about herself. A...turret? The circular top of the small tower was crowded, most of the space filled by an ill-maintained catapult of old design, yet there was still enough space to allow Garret to lead her towards the side facing outwards, towards the city. Is he going to throw me off the keep? Isabela couldn't bring herself to care, though it seemed an odd choice for the man.
Slowly, her feet as heavy as boulders, Isabela followed, gaze on the man's back as he leant forward, resting his hands on the battlement as he gazed out over the city, dark rings under his eyes, face pale as a ghost's.
Then, three feet away, she stopped and waited, head tilting away, looking at the catapult, gaze tracking the grains in the wood. It's kind of pretty...
The silence bore into her, yet Isabela found herself welcoming it, embracing it, embracing the peace. Time to stop running.
"You choose your friends well." Garrett's voice was soft, a weary whisper. Isabela, too tired to reply, kept following the lines in the wood, waiting for the blow to come. "Without Merrill, you'd already be a head shorter, I assure you." Isabela, unsurprised, waited, knowing death would still come, one way or another, either Garrett would find a way, or Castillon would. "But since her friendship with you made me rethink things, I've thought of something better."
Isabela, eyebrows knotting together, wearily looked up, wondering what cruelty Garrett had in mind. She found him still looking over the city, now with his hands behind his back, pale face drawn with exhaustion, yet eyes unwavering, tireless as the mind beneath them worked like clockwork.
Then, he finally spoke. "You're a good person."
Isabela took a step back, too stunned and tired for words, shocked at the words leaving the man's mouth. B-but I...I...
"You're impulsive, selfish, greedy, thoughtless and a fool..." The man nodded while speaking, brow furrowing with an exhausted sigh. "...but a good person at heart."
Isabela found herself shaking her head in disagreement, her mind drawing a blank. I...I...
"Must be a contradictory existence, to have all those bad qualities, yet wanting good, at the end." Garrett mused with a low cough, looking down at the battlement as Maric gave voice to a tentative whine. "I've decided what to do with you, Isabela."
She knew she should answer, yet as Isabela's mouth opened and closed, no words escaped her.
Instead, she watched the man turn to face her, face unreadable, tone neutral, the gaping hole in his breastplate seemingly glaring at her, weeping dried blood. "How many families did you save from slavery when you defied Castillon? How many did you risk your life for, so selflessly?"
Isabela swallowed, a dark worm working its way into her stomach. Her voice, always so confident, now came out as a meek squeak. "S-sixty..."
The man nodded, dark eyes on hers. "Sixty..." There was no smile, no approval in his voice, only words, dull and foreboding. "...an admirable deed, you should be commended for it."
But...? Isabela felt it coming, dreaded it coming.
Yet instead, Garrett wearily raised his arm, waving her to approach. "Come here."
I don't... Isabela swallowed, taking a step closer, then stopping, her gaze flickering towards the city still mostly concealed by the battlements, then looked away and shook her head. ...want to.
Garrett's face didn't change, only his tone, turning darker. "Come here, now."
Isabela, slowly, moved closer, looking down at her feet as she felt that dark worm in her gut grow and slither, making her want to throw up.
Then a hand was on her back, pushing her forward, making her press up against the battlement despite its apparent weakness."Look up."
Isabela obeyed...and then looked away with a wince, images of yellow fire still playing before her at the mere glance at the city. I don't...
"I said, look up." A gauntleted hand gripped her jaw, raising it, the firm grip and firmer words making her open her eyes despite every cell within her begging her not to.
She gasped at the sight, the blood in her veins freezing.
From the streets, it had been impossible to see the devastation left in the wake of the Qunari assault, but from the Viscount's Keep, it was before her in all its horrifying majesty.
The docks were on fire, seemingly every warehouse, massive structures of wood and stone, now torches illuminating the city with their eerie light. Further out, on the waters, dozens of ships were ablaze or sinking where the harbour was at its narrowest, the ships almost looking skeletal as they broke apart and sunk.
Along the route the Qunari had taken to the Viscount's Keep, there was darkness, like a scar running through the city, the fires that had started there having died out, leaving nothing but ashes in their wake. Yet all along the route, the fire had spread from thatched roof to wooden wall, consuming all in its wake, only dying out where no more fuel was to be found, either due to one of the rare open areas of the city or due to people having hacked down buildings in its wake to deprive it of anything but stone and mud.
Mostly though, the fire was simply spreading, like a living creature on ethereal winds, slashing and destroying with the same ease as a dancer's steps.
Worse were the sounds though.
Picked up by the winds, screams of agony and terror swept up towards those on the turret, assailing Isabela's ears with their song of woe. Also, cruel laughs, the clash of blades, roars of men and women turned to beasts of terror and death, unleashed upon the rest of the city.
Isabela had been around death and battle all her life, but that was, above all, about life, about survival.
This, however, was something on a far greater scale, where life was blotted out by death and destruction, where combat was turned from poetry and adrenaline to terror and blood. She'd not seen such monstrous killing since the darkspawn, such vehement slaughter, such brutal evil-
The words whispered in her ear was a dagger. "This is your doing."
Isabela's eyes widened in horror and she tried to take a step back.
Yet Garrett stood in the way, a block of steel that would have yielded to her with ease if she hadn't felt so paralyzed by horror, holding her fast. "One million people are down there." No. Isabela tried to turn her head away, but the grip on her jaw was iron, the voice in her ear pinning her eyes open, forcing her to see. "How many families is that? How many are dead down there? How many have been enslaved? How many homeless? Ruined?" Each question was rapt, a blow that made Isabela whimper. "You did this."
Isabela tried to shake her head, but Garrett's grip and her conscience was too strong. Her lips moved, but only to whisper. "P-please..."
"You see it, don't you...? You caused this." In Garrett's grip, Isabela trembled, the fires before her seemingly spinning, the world turning blurry.
"D-don't..."
"You will go down there, you will walk down every street, and you will watch."
"N-no...p-please..." Isabela shuddered. "I can't..."
"You will." Garrett suddenly let go of her and took a step back.
His voice echoed in her ears.
"For your own sake."
8
8
8
"This is ridiculous!"
Cullen winced, embarrassed at the sight of Carver marching back and forth across the floor of Meredith's office, hands waving in the air.
"Utterly ridiculous!" The man shook his head. "They attacked us! They killed hundreds! And Hawke lets them go!? And he's being made 'Champion of Kirkwall' for it!?" Carver's fist thumped into his hip. "And we let him do that!?" Cullen sat up straight, worried eyes moving to Meredith at the clear criticism. The woman's gaze was calm though, her elbows leaning on her desk as she rested her chin on her overlapping hands, watching the man come to a stop and throw her a hesitant look. "Erm...with all due respect, Knight-Commander...why?"
"He was still acting Viscount and had the authority to do this." Meredith replied, tone as calm as a placid lake. "Would I have let them go, had I not acknowledged this authority before? Probably, the Qunari are not Templar business, despite their heretical creed, holy wars are only sanctioned by the Divine."
Cullen felt an eyebrow arch, but didn't comment. Meredith was a frightening figure in many ways, yet fascinating, complex, with a set of beliefs set in stone...much like Garrett, Cullen figured.
He didn't think she would have appreciated the comparison however, her animosity of the man was not something she hid all that well.
Carver shook his head, sighing as his shoulders slumped. "I...understand that, I just...it's just so immoral of him, to let them go after all they'd done." Carver looked away, grumbling.
Are you taking a moral stance, or just disappointed you didn't get to prove your mettle? You looked eager last night. And when nobles started shouting for him to be made Champion...I'd never seen such a dark look. Cullen didn't voice such words though, he was loyal to his brothers and sisters, loved them even, as a templar should...but sometimes certain of them...irked him. Instead, Cullen shrugged. "Peace comes at a price, I believe Hawke was looking to the future, rather than the present."
"Very true, it was the act of a statesman, I can respect that." Meredith nodded to Cullen, making him nod back. Then she turned her gaze to Carver, also nodding to him. "Though at the same time, I agree, it was an immoral act, injuries as those must always be met head on. "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.'"
Cullen grimaced, despite all he'd seen in his life as a Templar, he sometimes found Meredith's hard interpretation of the Chant problematic. Cocking his head to the side, he finished the verse. "'Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.'"
Meredith bowed her head, a pale smile on her lips. "As always, Cullen, you prove yourself a man of temperate wisdom." Not knowing what to say, Cullen smiled. "One can indeed defend his actions in this...as for me, I'm less interested in the battle itself as of the issues surrounding it."
"Knight-Commander?" Cullen frowned, confused.
"The apostates." Carver grunted, arms crossed over his chest, eyes on Meredith. Of course...Maker, Carver has spent too much time with her and I too little, I'm usually the one who can read her best. "There were a lot of them, wasn't there?"
"Indeed." Meredith sighed, looking away, with her office high in the near-finished Templar Keep, her window offered an amazing view of the cityscape. "However regrettable the death of so many at the hands of apostates revealed by the madness induced by the Qunari gas was, it does prove that the corruption of free mages is ripe in the city, despite all our efforts."
Cullen, barely hearing the words, found himself looking out the window, horrified at the sight. Despite the battle having been six hours ago, the fires were still raging in many parts of the city, sending pillars of black smoke rising into the sky. The dawn had not come with an end to conflicts, it seemed, and whenever Cullen had walked out on the battlements for some fresh air, he'd heard the screams as the citizen continued to battle each other for what remained of the city. The city guard and even the soldiers of the nobles were out in force, yet order had yet to return to the city. We should help them...
Meredith's attentions were elsewhere though, her gaze piercing as it looked to Carver. "There's even rumours that these apostates have infiltrated the nobility now..."
Carver, straightening, said nothing, though Cullen could see a curious conflict in his eyes, one the man blinked away with a glare. "Really? That's worrying."
"Indeed, it means that the only ones we can truly trust are our own templars, all others are potential puppets of these apostates." Meredith growled, brow furrowed in worry. "We need to be more active in our hunt of them, we need to be everywhere."
"With all due respect, Commander..." Cullen replied, hesitating as he found her hard blue eyes boring into him. "...despite the odd group of them we've discovered, we've found no central organisation or proof that they're all working together as a group. Most are alone or in pairs, hiding from us, rather than trying to fight us in any shape or form. So have your own studies of them shown, as written in our library."
"Yet the existence of this...Warden-Apostate and his crooks aiding mages in escaping the Circle tower seems to imply otherwise." Meredith's hands clenched at the mere mention of the subtle agent that had for years now evaded capture and mocked them with every escaped mage. "They might not have been organised, but he is doing that even as we speak, and that makes them more dangerous than any individual apostate we've ever been forced to hunt down." Meredith scowled. "The witch of the wilds might still not be captured, but even she is but a minor nuisance compared to hundreds of mages hiding among common citizen and plotting our direct downfall."
Carver and Cullen exchanged a look at that, even Carver looking somewhat worried at the musings of their leader as he spoke. "What will you do?"
"What I've always done. My duty." Meredith snorted back, her scowl now directed at the table she sat by, thinking.
Carver and Cullen exchanged a confused look before the later stepped closer. "What my honourable colleague here meant was...how?" Meredith looked up at him with a scowl, making him shrug. "We are your captains, Commander, we can't aid you unless you tell us your plans."
Sighing, Meredith put her fingertips together and rested her forehead against them, looking tired for but a moment. When she looked back up though, she was iron once more. "It is clear that this city is full of corruption in the form of apostates, maleficar and possibly even demon-infestations. It is also clear that we do not have the means of detecting it as we once did, these apostates know how to conceal themselves to our senses, for how else to explain so many hiding from our patrols? Thirdly, it is clear that the leadership of the city, with the death of the Viscount, stands in more question than ever before. With him, it was merely incompetent, now, it might also be hiding the corruption we've discovered."
Cullen swallowed. I don't like where this is going... "I admit that it was a great surprise to find so many mages outside the Circle, but surely you can't judge things that harshly? If we start suspecting everyone in the city of this corruption, we will make no allies but plenty of enemies, which might actually make our job more difficult. Perhaps, if we stressed the dangers of the mages in public and tried to reach out to local-"
"You are a man of reason." Meredith interrupted, offering the palest of smiles. "And I understand how you think, it would make sense...if we had the luxury of such trust." A sigh. "Everyone is already suspected of corruption by this point, trusting any single entity could now well spell the doom of the entire order, allowing blood-magic and demons to infiltrate us as well."
Carver's growl of agreement echoed in the room. "It's us against them, we must find them all, and purge them."
Cullen shuddered at the thought, the killing of apostates, whether terrified children cowering before the blade or vicious monsters, was not something he relished. "That is our duty, yes, but how we go about it is up to us."
"Agreed, and by now the situation is too dire for small measures." Meredith grunted. "As of now, we must take extreme measures."
Cullen swallowed. "How...extreme?"
"Our tranquils must begin work on making enchantments capable of detecting mages, these must be distributed to our templars, to better find these apostates." Meredith nodded to herself even as Cullen gasped. The cost will be tremendous, and it's only useful if... "The Arishok was willing to turn every rock of the city to find his book, so must we be in finding our apostates. We must quadruple our searches, and include not only homes, but people on the streets, those leaving and entering the city...no apostate must escape our notice."
Cullen's eyes widened. "Commander, the templars are unpopular enough as it is, if-"
"Don't forget Darktown." Carver grunted, the man nodding at Meredith's words.
The woman nodded back, face grim. "Indeed, heavily armed forces must go down there and find every wretch and check them for the corruption of magic." She shot Cullen a look. "We are not here to be liked, captain, we're here to do our duty."
"But-"
"Further, with the corruption of magic so clearly spread across Kirkwall, every noble, however clear of head he or she might be, could very possibly be controlled by a blood-mage or even a demon." Meredith shook her head, eyes distant. "That means that none can be trusted with the seat of the Viscount, where they could actively work to counter us."
Cullen gasped. "Commander! We can't try to take over the city leadership! People would revolt! The nobles-!"
"The nobles will do as they are told!" Meredith snapped back, scowling at him in anger. "I will not install some Templar government of the city, to appease them. But there will be no election of a new Viscount, the seat must remain vacant until I can be assured that the city has been cleansed of this corruption!"
"I'm not sure if the nobles will see it that way."
Meredith snorted. "Bah, the nobles? They know better than to challenge the might of the Maker and his servants."
Cullen hesitated, taking a step back. "Hawke might-"
"Yes, he might." Meredith scowled at Cullen, and then at Carver. "Either because of genuine conviction, or because of the corruption having reached him...we'll see, won't we?"
Carver hesitated, then nodded, face a bitter mask.
Cullen though, could only stare back in mute horror.
This will not end well.
8
8
8
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for cracking the whip.