Chapter 49

So sorry for the delay guys, I've just started a full time job and life has delayed everything as normal!

Huge thank you for your reviews/follows/favourites! I love that you guys are so great! I promise to try harder to remain on schedule with my posting and I hope you all enjoy reading this.

Thank you to my beta, LostSpace for being amazing! If it wasn't for her beta skills, I wouldn't still be here!

Love, Luna.

9:00 Dragon, 3rd Guardian,

I now no longer travel alone and have found not only kin but someone I hope to call a friend. His name is Quentin and he –very much like myself- was censored for his passion for other research. Quentin has a good number of years researching the method in which elves evaded death. It is his passion to create a way to never have to die. Granted, I find this idea outlandish and not only that but how would Thedas support a world where no one ages yet the population grows? Although I feel where Quentin and I are similar in our passion for our research, I think Quentin's plans only benefit himself and a close few. I, for one, would not enjoy living forever, what would be the point? What would happen when there was nothing left to learn because you had spent an age discovering it all? Regardless, I should not jest about his work. He most likely thinks I'm just an insane idealist. Either way, he too knew of the mage in the village near Redcliffe which makes me question whether we're actually going to knock on this so called mage's door or we're going to happily skip into a regiment of templars already preparing to smack a sun on our forehead. Freedom is glorious, I enjoy it everyday, but the constant worry that today may be my last sours the experience, to say the least. I am not alone now, that is one thing. Quentin is also an excellent cook, though a little intense with his culinary skills. I have never witnessed anyone so precise about everything, he is definitely a perfectionist that is for sure. Quentin seems to have a dark side, however. The way he speaks about some things sends shivers down my spine. He speaks of our heritage as though it is a right to godhood, as if because we can conjure fire then all those who deny us should burn. It is not uncommon. Tevinter is a fine example of it and I doubt the man truly means the words he says. Though, I wonder. We came across a field abundant with vandal aria today, swaying in the winter's air. The herbalist at the circle, Elaine, always spoke fondly of them and I remember how annoyed she was when the requisition she had ordered –about twenty vandal arias- was denied as it was classed as improper use. The woman merely wanted to show the children how to make the water change colour and how they could be used in fireworks. As I walked through the field, viewing the vandal arias I remembered the old herbalist who just wanted to make those children smile and it created waves of inspiration. Elaine is one of the reasons my work is so important. I must strive forward and make my dream come true. If I ever were to become a father, I pray to the Maker -or whatever is truly up there- that my child will be as free as the vandal arias I saw today, swaying in the breeze. And I pray that their freedom will never be compromised even if they are born with magic.

The mage that lives in the village is rumoured to own a golem, which is most likely one of the reasons the templars have left him alone. Quentin also wishes to go to speak with the mage. Golems are immortal. I laughed at the very thought of Quentin becoming a golem. Though I bet it would be an improvement on his appearance!

9:00 Dragon, 6th Guardian

We were ambushed.

I write this as I sit across from Quentin, who is staring into the fire with an intense gaze. We were halfway towards our destination, walking through a clearing when we came across the templars who had been waiting for us all along. They did not want me; they did not even know my name. It was Quentin they desired and they looked at him with bloodthirsty eyes that I could only ever compare to a pack of hungry wolves. At first, I defended him and spat insults at them. The usual things you would hear a convict call their captors, but the templar, Ser Rowan –he introduced himself, which in itself was odd, but then again they did not know of my true nature, they were from the Free Marches far from the Ferelden Circle- and explained Quentin's crimes. At first I expected them to tell me of how he hurt one of their own, for I had already surmised as much from the hate riddled expressions on each templar's face. But that was not the case. Quentin had bludgeoned one of the other mages in the tower, one of the female mages. I was shocked to see that these templars felt so strongly against it. Quentin, however, remained indifferent as the templars explained how he killed one of his kin, though for what reason they did not explain. They didn't have time to; Quentin quickly began to panic at the prospect of his capture. He slit his wrist and a battle ensued, one I did not participate in because I could not move. I stood in the middle of a battle, my mind dazed as I debated whose side I should be on. In the end I did not make a decision and now I feel as if my hands are smeared with the blood of those men. The men that fought for what they believed was right. I am usually the one who argues that the Chantry is wrong for how they treat us, but now I feel I understand their hatred. Quentin is one of the many mages who set a bad example for our kind. It is because of mages like Quentin that we are shunned and locked in a tower to see out the rest of our days, to then be buried in nameless graves or have our ashes scattered like rubbish. I do not believe blood magic is truly wrong, it is like all magic in the world; harmless. It is us –the mages- that are the true danger if we are to succumb so easily to gain what we wish. I will travel with Quentin until we reach our destination and then once I have gotten what I need for my research I will gladly depart from his company. I longed for a companion, someone I could call a friend in this new found freedom and it seems all I have found is another reason that the world wants to lock mages away in a tower.

9:00 Dragon 12th Guardian

We have finally reached where we needed to be and I am glad for it. Wilhelm is eccentric and slightly mad, but enthusiastic about the work he is doing with his golem. I suppose the fact that he has complete control over a huge golem does give him some edge over the templars. He was more than happy to give us safe refuge for a while but warned us that there would be templar patrols soon, as they had tightened their leash around the area lately. When he mentioned that I looked at Quentin with knowing eyes as he looked at the old man indifferently. Wilhelm was excited as we discussed my research. He usually dabbles in the work of golems and focus crystals but easily grasped my own work and we began to discuss it enthusiastically. He was shocked to hear my theory of lyrium just like the First Enchanter. I truly believe that lyrium has its own life force –if anything the same basics as that as a plant- and how it would be an excellent conductor to supply the information as mages naturally have it in their body, we are born with it.

He was just as enthusiastic at Quentin's research, for it seemed at first that Quentin sought out an anvil to make himself and others golems to aid others. When Quentin revealed that he did not wish to be a golem but just wished for the immortality it seemed that Wilhelm no longer had the same attitude. Quentin did not like that one bit but took what little information he could. Wilheilm was not rude to him however, merely sceptical of his own personal need to never die, which I suppose any man would be. I feel as if we are making progress finally. Wilhelm has begun to help me with my research, showing me his papers on the work he has done with his own personal golem at testing its cognitive boundaries. Reading some of his experiments made me feel nauseous at the extent of what had been done to the golem and I even began to feel sorry for it. When Wilhelm left to speak to his wife I asked the golem if it was alright to which the thing replied "What does it care if I'm alright?" it then began to ponder out loud as to why my nose is such a big size and that is when my sympathy for the golem ran out.

I'm making progress slowly and Wilhelm mentioned to me last night that he knew somebody who would be extremely interested in my work and had the power and gold to see it happen. I am normally sceptical when it comes to such things but, Maker, I need some luck right now. So far I've almost died escaping the Tower, almost died by Flemeth's hand and have been travelling with a deranged blood mage for weeks. Maybe I should ask Wilhelm more about this mystery person. Without any help I know this will project will take me more than one lifetime and if that is the case then I may have to ask Quentin for a favour.

Quentin claims that the woman in the Circle attacked him first, that they were lovers and fought when she found out he no longer felt the same. He said that he used blood magic only as a last resort, and his freedom being compromised was what he felt was a last resort. If his story is true or not, I am still leaving to make plans on my own. Quentin is too much of a risk for someone who truly just wishes to be a fugitive in peace rather than trying to fight everyone and their mother.

I've been practising my dagger skills with my pen knife. They've improved dramatically and it no longer looks my hands have been attacked by an angry tabby cat.

A/N- I'm really enjoying playing with the little web of people in my own invention of people in Malcolm Hawke's story! Hope you enjoyed this short chapter hopefully the next one will make up for it!