Garrett felt tired.

Not just the tiredness from having spent three hours with a horde of upset nobles, or from the growing hostility to Meredith and all of her kin, or even from the still fresh grief of his mother's death.

It was more than that, a lingering exhaustion settling in his very bones.

As he stepped through the door to his home, he looked about, yet wasn't surprised to find the only elf to greet him to be Fenn. "Good day, Serah, your cloak?"

"Of course, thank you." Garrett nodded, handing the garment over even as he sighed, still looking for any sign of her, knowing it wouldn't come.

He knew she hadn't left the estate, to go to her place in the Alienage or otherwise, for he had her watched. The guilt of that was like a weight around his neck. What else can I do? It wasn't surprising that she hadn't come to greet him though, their marriage was in some sort of twilight, the two moving within the estate and around one another like ghosts, not really acknowledging one another.

Is it my fault? Was I too harsh to ask those questions? Was I simply wrong?

The questions gnawed on Garrett, but there was little to do about it, the words had been spoken. As to the answer...he doubted even Merrill knew. Mother...whether she had a part in it or not...this was all my fault, I'm sorry. Dhavine's promise hung in the air around him, promising more pain and despair, making him wonder if he really wanted to make amends with Merrill. Damned if I do, damned if I don't...and what of the others? Should I just...cut myself off from them, to be on the safe side...?

The thought made the world seem darker and his shoulders heavier.

At least the talk with the nobles was fruitful.

Meredith had been a fool, or rather, had acted like a templar rather than a politician...something Garrett should have expected, yet hadn't, having expected something worse.

Garrett had, after all, killed a fellow noble in his own home, making the others nervous about him. Had Meredith understood anything outside her world of magic and templars, she would have seen the opportunity to split Garrett from his power-base.

Instead of acting on this though, she'd been reactive, and to the worst possible thing, his threat of taking all the money out of the city. So she had raised the taxes – ironically so, since she claimed not to be the government – and the tolls, no doubt trying to gain as much funds as possible and save them for the possibility of Garrett enacting his threat.

Not that I would, this is my city.

It was a burdensome tax though, and Garrett had been almost as grumpy about it as the other nobles he'd been in a meeting with. But it had driven them closer to him, their fear overruled by their acknowledgment that he was the figurehead to rally around when faced with the threat of Meredith and her draconian ruling.

So, given how tax was calculated by how much was in the treasury, the solution had been simple, at least Garrett had thought so. Invest the money, farmlands, while worth a lot, weren't made of gold, nor was hiring more soldiers and guards...those things weren't taxed, after all.

As long as she doesn't figure out to make the tax income-based...

Garrett nearly snorted at the thought, Meredith was too straight-forward to figure out the inner workings of economy.

I'll out-manouvre her, I know it.

"Serah?"

Blinking, Garrett looked up from his thoughts, finding Fenn standing close, the cloak already removed, the elf's eyes concerned. "I'm sorry, Fenn, what?"

The concern didn't fade from Fenn's eyes, though his unsure smile was kind. "I said you have guests, Serah, important ones."

Garrett blinked, then frowned. I do? I don't recall inviting anyone? I just met all the nobles so it can't be them. But who...?

Noticing his look, the elf grimaced. "Anders is one of them, he claimed you'd want to speak to him and his companion...the First Enchanter." Ohhh...shit. Fenn shrugged. "Considering our last guests and how that panned out, Bastile allowed them to be let in."

Bastile...he's made it clear he follows my orders, but he's not comfortable with this whole struggle with the Templars, I know that. Curious, Garrett eyed Fenn. "And what's your opinion on all of this then, Fenn?"

The servant blinked, apparently surprised to have been asked, though he quickly gathered his wits. "I serve you, Serah, I believe you'll make the right decisions that'll set this city right."

Garrett found a sad smile on his lips. So much faith in me...when did I earn that? "Even with the Templars? You think I made the right decision there? To throw them out?"

Fenn looked away at that, eyes narrowing. "They hurt Orana."

Oh.

Then Fenn looked back up at his liege with a small blush on his cheeks, taking a deep breath. "They're in your office, Serah."

Garrett nodded, clapping the elf's shoulder. "Okay, thank you."

With that, he began to head for his office, looking left and right as he went.

He saw guards saluting, looking proud. Servants smiling in what seemed like gratitude. The memory of the templar intrusion was still fresh in everyone's mind, and there was an air of relief in the halls of the estate.

Yet there was no Leandra to be seen, save yet another vase atop a table.

No Bodahn or Sandal.

No Merrill either.

The halls seemed, despite the people there, empty.

I think too much. Grunting, Garrett reached his office and shouldered his way inside.

Within, Anders and Orsino sat before Garrett's desk, each holding a glass of wine some servant no doubt had brought them. Not rifled through my papers, have you? A glance at the corner revealed Maric though, the dog giving him a sympathetic look before turning his wary gaze back to the two mages. Guess not, good dog, I've seen too little of you as of late, too much work and...and things. Sighing, Garrett pushed down on the grief welling from his chest, keeping it contained as he grimly met the gazes of the two mages turning their heads to look at him, his tone curt and calm. "Gentlemen. Why the honour of your visit?"

Walking around the chairs and his desk dominating the office, Garrett eyed the two men with wariness. Anders' looked his usual brooding self, his black cloak and the pale and cracked skin beneath making him look part-corpse if not for the bright blue eyes. Orsino on the other hand wore also a dark robe, but of far finer make and with crimson details, his finely chiseled face one of concern and curiousity. There was also something else in the elf's eyes, something Garrett didn't like.

"And where, pray tell, are your guards, First Enchanter? I take it Meredith hasn't deigned to let you go unattended?" Moving to his side of the desk, Garrett remained standing in front of his chair, hands on the smooth wood before him, gaze resting on the First Encanter, arching an eyebrow as the elf shifted in his seat under the scrutiny. "Should I expect another visit from Meredith, First Enchanter? It's good form of a guest to warn the host of an impending assault."

Anders shook his head with a sigh. "You're safe, Garrett, don't be silly."

"Considering my latest exchange with the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter now sitting in my home, drinking my wine, while his guards are no doubt looking for him, I wouldn't call my concern 'silly'." Garrett scowled back. He turned his head, fixing his gaze on the elf again. "Well? Where are they?"

"They...lost me in the market." Orsino shrugged, looking apologetic. "They'll be looking for me there for some time, I think. For all my debating with Meredith, I'm trusted to be a 'behaving' mage." He looked away with a grimace. "Not sure how that'll turn out after this, but it might be worth it..." Looking back, he sighed, shifting in his seat. "And would you sit down...?"

Garrett remained standing, eyes narrowing at the First Enchanter. I won't like this.

Again, Anders sighed, this time with a hint of a growl. "Please, sit down?" Shooting the mage a glare, Garrett found the man raising a gloved hand. "I swear, on what honour this decrepit body still holds, this meeting will not come to Meredith's knowledge and won't do anything to harm you."

Garrett scowled back.

Anders raised both hands, eyebrows raised. "Have I ever done anything to make you distrust me?"

Slowly, Garrett sat down. "Well there was that time you went crazy in the Chantry..."

"And since then I've been nothing but a good help and ally..." Anders snorted back, then shrugged, a knowing smirk on his cracked lips. "...if an annoying one, I know."

Garrett, somehow, managed a pale smile.

It died quickly though, replaced by a frown as he noted Orsino's eagerness to speak. Might as well, he has templars to go back to.

"I take it, then, that this is another plead for me to act against Meredith in defense of the mages? Or am I mistaken?"

Anders and Orsino exchanged a glance, making Garrett sigh. The later opened his mouth, but Anders was quicker. "I brought Orsino here to personally tell you of what's happening in the tower, of what things the templars are up to."

Maker, preserve me... Garrett shrugged, grunting. "Given your effort, Orsino, I'm willing to listen." He shook his head. "Don't expect miracles though." With that, he let his fingers intertwine and rested his hands on the table, gaze fixed on the First Enchanter.

The elf pulled back, looking surprised at Garrett's words for some reason. But then he smiled, taking a deep breath. "I...thank you." A nervous chuckled. "Well...where to begin?"

"How about from the top to the tower to the bottom?" Anders suggested, a brooding growl in his voice, eyes distant as he gripped the armrests of his seat tighter.

"Very well." Orsino took another deep breath, gaze down to collect his thoughts. When he looked up, it was with dull eyes. "Top of the tower is reserved for templars with spyglasses. They make sure none of those patrolling the outer wall is slacking and that no mage within the tower is trying to escape where the patrolling templars don't see. Given that the courtyard outside the tower is empty and a forbidden area for any mage without an escort coming or going, this is extremely easy." Another deep breath. "Next is my chamber, followed by the senior enchanters living a floor below. All of us have large private chambers, our needs served by tranquils..." There was a grimace there. "...it's eerie being tended upon by an empty vessel of someone that used to laugh in your classes, by the way. Anyway, we each have four guards posted outside our rooms at all times. Whenever we leave, two accompany us while the other two remain at the door."

Garrett frowned, but didn't interrupt. I suppose that's...reasonable? If a little tasteless with the number of guards at the door and the tranquil...

"Next is the library, for silent contemplation and reading of Meredith-approved texts, both those pertaining magic and those touching on other subjects." Orsino shrugged. "Lightly patrolled, you can even get five minutes alone in there, if you're not an enchanter like me or my peers...or so they say, think lower-ranked mages now have to be escorted by a templar when getting a book and then being escorted to the general reading-area."

Garrett's frown turned into a scowl. They're not allowed to read anything but what Meredith deems appropriate? That's not the way to respect knowledge. Must mean dull reading too...probably with too many pictures of saints.

"After that come the dormitories." Orsino shrugged, then hesitated, noticing Anders giving him a look, making him speak again. "They're a set of large rooms able to house fifty mages in each, separated by gender, of course. Each one has five templars on guard at all times, plus one in the end of each halway outside to discourage any attempts at fraternizing. These are all of course present at night too, midnight visits to the bathroom must have an escort, after all, though they usually only send one templar along then."

Hasn't it always been like that...? Given his father's old tales, Garrett shook his head, realising the silliness of his question.

"After a few levels of dormitories, there's the classrooms, each divided by age and skill of the students. The number of templars present differs depending on the level at which the students are. Also, there's a chantry priestess in each classroom to lead the prayers both when starting and ending the class, as well as to give lessons of the Chant of light when she deems it appropriate." Orsino, coughing, took a sip from his glass of wine. "At the centre of this level there's also a block for executions of any mage that might fail at an exercise so badly he's under threat of demonic possession." At the growl of Anders, Orsino raised his voice with a hand held up to ask silence. "It's not used often though! It takes quite a spectacular failure for that to happen."

"No excuse..." Anders grunted, looking away. Well, if they're about to be possessed... An image of his mother, smiling as blood ran down her throat, flashed before Garrett's mind, making him recoil. ..might be for the best.

"Then there's the Chantry, a large chapel, essentially." Orsino sighed. "Fifty priestesses are there, ready to help mages and templars alike with matters of the spirit."

"To ask forgiveness for the sin they were born with, you mean." Anders growled back.

"It's actually quite nice there." Orsino protested with a little smile. "Maybe that's the idea, yes, but...well I like it."

Anders simply snorted, but held his voice, arms crossed over his chest.

"Then there's the factories..."

"Factories?" Garrett echoed, confused.

"Well we call them that." Orsino shrugged. "They're craft halls full of tranquil creating runes of various things to export and sell...it brings quite a lot of money in, or so I hear."

"Well it has to be with so many tranquil at their disposal..." Anders grunted again.

Orsino grimaced, but ignored the man. "Right now many are writing new manuscripts of the Chant of Light though, to be read by the many new mages brought into the tower. Each one needs one, after all."

Anders growled, but didn't speak up this time.

"After that there's the main hall, a very empty place, mainly allowing traffic in and out of the tower, as well as holding a small garrison of templars." Orsino smirked at Garrett. "Very small, actually, Meredith prefers to keep most templars in her new keep, as of late..."

Not liking what the man was insinuating, Garrett scowled back.

Blinking, Orsino looked away. "Below ground there's first a simple storage room, holding food, supplies, that kind of thing." Then, he winced. "Then there's the...sweatshop." Next to him, Anders growled something unintelligible. "The templars call it that. It's...well it's a form of cells, more so than the dormitories. Each mage is locked away into a chamber covered in runes severely punishing any use of magic within...usually with pain."

"Always with pain." Anders corrected, head tilted so far down Garrett couldn't see anything but the man's hood. Though given the way he was holding on to the chair, he was shaking with suppressed rage.

"Within, priestesses come to make them see the errors in whatever they've done and convince them to heed the Chant of Light more properly, or, depending on the mage, a templar comes and does it, though not gently." Wincing, Orsino shrugged. "They don't hit them or anything, but...well there's been cold water dunked over them, denial of food or sleep, enough to convince them that cooperation is the best solution."

"How many, after this 'convincing', have killed themselves?" Anders question was a low mutter, the man not looking up.

"A...few." Orsino admitted, grimacing again.

"A few too many."

"Well, yes." The elf shrugged, looking pained as he went on, not meeting Garrett's gaze. "Then there's just the storage area that used to hold the phylacteries, they're now at the Templar keep, that now is the place in which they create new tranquil." The elf shrugged. "I'd like not to speak of that place."

"Why not?" Anders muttered. "Is it the screams? Or the silence afterwards? Is it the knowledge of what they do to people there? Or what they use? Is it the thought of every tranquil servant you have having had their last moments of humanity being one of agony unlike any a person could ever feel-"

"I said, I'd like not to speak of it." Orsino interrupted with surprising firmness, shooting the other mage a glare. When he looked back to Garrett though, his eyes were soft and pleading. "I...understand that you're already in an awkward position, Champion, but the situation...it's...getting out of hand. A quarter of all the mages in the tower are down in the sweatshop. Those that come back aren't...they're not the same. Either they're scared of their own shadows, completely submissive or spiteful..."

Garrett didn't answer at first, his mind working.

Slowly, Anders raised his head to look at the noble, eyes intense.

"I understand where you're coming from, Orsino, and I sympathise, greatly in fact."

"But?" Anders growled, pale blue eyes flashing.

"But I do not have the way or means to force Meredith to change at this moment." Garrett replied, giving a calm look back. "You might say that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, Anders, but I'm not Meredith's enemy, at least not in the way you might desire." The mage remained silent, fortunately. "My struggle with her is not about mages and templars, but with how this city is run and with the hundreds of thousands of people within that still suffer from the Qunari battle. We might have rebuilt most of the buildings, but there's still tens of thousands of people out there on the brink of starvation, who live day by day with no work or prospects, people that might turn this city into chaos if we let it go that far. That's more important, I'm sad to say, than a few hundred mages and their plight." Garrett raised a hand, stopping Anders' protest. "Which is not to say that their plight is in any way acceptable. Just that I have to pick my battles at this moment."

"Many mages have family in the city, surely, they would support you in anything if you'd just take the mages side...?" Orsino asked, looking sad.

"And many more would take issue with me doing so, the fear of magic runs deep in most, First Enchanter." Garrett countered. "Of course, if I only acted to please public opinon, I wouldn't have done half the things I have..." He snorted, then offered a pale smile. "I can only promise you this, when I've brought Meredith to the negotiation table regarding the situation in Kirkwall, I will bring up the mages and how they are treated, because I do believe that this is a cause of disruption of the city. In fact, I'll demand that you are there to attend the meeting with her, so you can too partake in the discussion and speak for your people."

"That's...most gracious of you." Orsino offered a hesitant smile, looked away...and smiled a little wider, a light of hope in his eyes.

Anders, however, growled and shook his head. "That's it, a promise? The Mage and Templar conflict in this city is not something that will-"

"Don't call it that." Garrett raised a finger at Anders, scowling at the man. "No matter how much you or Meredith would like it to be, this is not a struggle between the templars and the mages, but one between Meredith and her spiritual law and the secular law headed by me. Yes, there's a real struggle between mages and templars too, but that's a separate issue and I will not have either you or her muddle the issue." He leant back, hands sliding off the desk. "So yes, you get a promise, that once I've brought Meredith to a debate, I'll open the floor for a second debate, and that's what you're going to get."

Anders glare back was heated, full of frustration and grief.

Softening his tone, Garrett offered a shrug. "I've always said I'm a reformist, not a revolutionary, sorry, but you can't change that."

Without a word, Anders rose to his feet, then left.

Watching the door close, Garrett grimaced. "That happens all too often with him...he'll calm down and see my reasoning as true later."

"Well, for what it's worth, I'm pleased." Orsino also got to his feet, offering a thin and frail hand that Garrett took, watching the elf smile. "Even a mage can be a reformist about the circle, Champion."Another smile, and the elf begun to head for the door. "Thank you."

Sitting back, thankful for the sudden silence as the door clicked shut, Garrett reached out along his side, pleased to find Maric moving to press his head against the hand.

Scratching the dog behind the ear, Garrett blinked, surprised at how relaxed he suddenly was.

A moment later, he was asleep.

8

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8

Thanks to Abydos Jackson, for the plans and schemes.