Notes: Thank you for reading! Events take a notably darker turn in this chapter. There is a new Asunder event. And two more plot threads make their appearance.
Song: Depeche Mode – "John the Revelator"
Chapter 65: Claiming the Maker as Her Holy Right
Winter Dragon 9:38.
"Your Graces, the seneschal has admitted a noble guest who wishes to present you with a petition."
It was always some bloody thing, Caitlyn thought sourly as she put down the book she was reading to Jo Beth. Her daughter was just over a year old and was toddling around—for a few minutes at a time, at least—and speaking a few words, including baby names for her parents and brother. It was hard to distinguish her words for her mother and for her brother Mal, but she would express her displeasure if the "wrong" person responded.
"Dada," Jo Beth declared as Caitlyn handed the golden-haired little girl and the book to Anders. He smiled a heartstring-tugging, white-toothed smile as he cuddled her.
Harlan had been quiet for three months, with no notable "civic" or political activity from the Coterie, but there was always something that would take her away from these precious moments with her children. She had been able to spend a lot of time with Mal... but then, she had not been a very important personage until he was an older child. She felt wretchedly guilty that her duties as Viscountess and to the war effort were taking her away from Jo Beth's childhood more than life events had taken her from Mal's.
At least Anders gets to spend time with her, she thought sadly, noting his look of sympathy and compassion. He was a natural with children. She had seen that with Mal; the two had taken to each other immediately, and Mal had tried to emulate Anders. But she had thought at the time that it might have been a mutual determination to bond and make up for the lost three and a half years. There was no such explanation for Jo Beth's attachment to him. He was just good with children, she knew now. It's good that he has had the chance to be a father, she thought. The Circle would have denied him that. Still tried to.
She met Aveline in the outer Keep. The two were going to greet the guest together, Aveline acting as Caitlyn's bodyguard just in case. Caitlyn was more than capable of defending herself, as a ferocious battlemage, but it was protocol—and it was just a good habit in general.
"Lady Johane Harimann," introduced Seneschal Bran. He promptly bowed and took his leave, leaving them to their privacy.
A handsome, if sharp-faced, middle-aged woman in fine clothing greeted Caitlyn and Aveline. "Your Grace." Her eyes were clever and piercing.
Friend, rival, or potential enemy? Caitlyn racked her brains to recall the noble moot that had elected her as Viscountess. This woman had voted for her, she remembered. Some of her unease disappeared with this memory. "My lady," she said. "It is an honor to speak to you today."
"The honor is all mine, as is the courtesy to speak with you alone. I will not presume on Your Grace's time. I have only a small favor to ask. Then I would take my leave, with your permission."
Caitlyn nodded curtly.
"My family is well-connected throughout the Free Marches. We know most of the noble families, at least the long-standing ones. I regret that your mother did not seek my patronage long before the Blight, Your Grace. You would have been spared any need to live in... Lowtown." Her lips curled.
Impatience filled Caitlyn. Whatever this mix of blatant self-promotion and obsequiousness was, it could not be the petition that had brought her here. "I thank you for your implication, but my mother never mentioned your family as notable allies of the Amells." There was an edge to her voice.
"We were not. I'm sorry to tell you that, in past generations, we were notable allies of the Vaels."
Caitlyn's heart thumped. She fixed Lady Harimann with a fierce glare. "I presume that you are not anymore. Support for that family is treason now."
Her tone was unnecessarily hard. "Hawke," Aveline said quietly.
"My family does not support the Vaels," Lady Harimann said. "We have not, in fact, in seven years, long before the prince took up the cause of schism and war. I merely say this because it is documented fact and I did not want Your Grace to learn of it yourself later, without my having told you first."
"I see," Caitlyn said. That did make sense.
"To return to my point. I know about most of the Marcher noble families, even those members who have been disowned. It has recently come to my attention that there is a young girl, an orphan, whose mother was Sister Evelyn Trevelyan of Ostwick."
"Sister?" Aveline said. "I didn't know she broke her vows."
Lady Harimann huffed, affronted that a mere Guard-Captain had dared to speak before her "betters."
Caitlyn cut in. "She was not affirmed. She had taken no vows to the Chantry, and so she broke none of them when she married."
"Which is more than can be said of Sebastian Vael," Lady Harimann said.
Caitlyn wanted to get to the bottom of what this woman wanted and then kick her out. She had taken Lady Harimann's measure at once, and it was "court parasite." It was blindingly obvious to Caitlyn that Lady Harimann was bringing up Sebastian to attempt to manipulate her, and it was offensive to her that Lady Harimann thought she could be influenced by verbal insults of one of her wartime enemies.
"Please, let's get to the point," she urged the noblewoman impatiently. "Yes—the young girl was orphaned 9:36 Satinalia, during the massacre. Her father was killed, and her mother had died in childbirth. I assume you have a personal interest in this girl?"
"I do," Lady Harimann said. "I would request to foster her. She is of noble background, as noble as Your Grace's. If her mother's family will not take her back, at least she would be raised as befits her blood."
Caitlyn and Aveline exchanged awkward glances. Few others knew, but the close-knit group did: Alison Dupres-Trevelyan was a mage. That was not illegal anymore in Kirkwall, and she was in no danger of being taken to a Circle, but Lady Harimann could not know what she was truly asking.
The lady herself broke the period of awkward silence. "You are worried, but you do not know what to say. It is quite all right, Your Grace—I can guess the girl's secret. Her father was targeted that dark night for a reason, and magic is not unusual in the Trevelyan family. They're said to be related to a Tevinter house, I think. The girl is a mage, isn't she?"
Caitlyn gaped at Lady Harimann, but quickly regained command of herself. "Yes," she confirmed. It was nothing to hide anymore, after all. "She is. Are you quite sure that you can take that on?"
The lady smiled a thin, broad smile. "Quite. The child will be privately tutored. I have... the means to do that. I have heard that one of the mages in the army started an orphanage and boarding school. Private tutelage is more suitable than letting a girl of such noble blood grow up in a place like that."
Caitlyn was surprised. She didn't care for the woman's snobbishness, but she had just been pulled away from her own daughter because of this meeting... and that maternal urge was something she understood. If something, Maker forbid, happened to her and Anders, she would much rather have their children raised by a relative, a friend, or even just adopted by a family of mage-friendly strangers than placed in an orphanage without parental-type figures and family lives. It was a home for children who had nowhere else to go but the street. She did understand Lady Harimann's urge to take care of a girl with whom she felt kinship, even if that was based on noble background.
"Anders and I can make inquiries among the mages to find a good tutor for her," she said.
"Your Grace is kind, but I will handle it," Lady Harimann said swiftly. "Your Graces need not trouble yourselves with something like this. I will see to it that the girl is given a fitting education."
That seemed to conclude the lady's business, and Caitlyn gave her leave to depart the meeting—to her relief. Lady Harimann was hard on her nerves. She was not sure if she had done the right thing by letting this woman foster Alison, but perhaps as a foster mother, she would be warmer and more reasonable than as a courtier asking a favor of her Viscountess.
She had almost forgotten about Alison. After the 9:36 Satinalia Massacre, she had had Seneschal Bran's staff find her father's friends to secure placement for her. That was a year and three months ago. I tried to be kind to her the night her father was murdered, she thought, but then I just shunted her off to others. I've neglected her. She is a mage, her father died because of his loyalty to me, and I've forgotten about her. I am supposed to be the protector of mages in Kirkwall. I am glad that Lady Harimann has taken an interest in her, but it shouldn't have come to this.
I should have more control over what goes on in my own city, to my own people—and to the Void with those who think I need to be cautious, passive, traditional. No. Kirkwall is a mess and it needs a strong leader to clean it. Kirkwall needs me just as much as the Free Mages of Thedas need me, and I will not let either down again.
Caitlyn was pleased to learn that Alison Dupres-Trevelyan had been placed with the Harimanns. She was less pleased when, upon making inquiries about the girl, she learned her magical tutor's name.
Anders was not overly happy either. "Grace?" he repeated when Caitlyn had told him what had been passed on to her. "Isn't that the same one who led the group that murdered a pair of pro-mage Templars for no reason?"
"And who led a group of vigilantes violently protesting at the Gallows in the lead-up to the massacre," Caitlyn confirmed. "Yes. I don't know what Lady Harimann was thinking, why this particular mage so appealed to her."
"Still," he said, frowning as he considered, "she didn't kill those Templars. And the worst thing her vigilantes did was throw mud and rotten food at Meredith." He shrugged, giving Caitlyn a wry smile. "What can I say? I wish they'd thrown rocks. And that one had struck Meredith in the head."
Caitlyn laughed. "That does put it in perspective," she said. "As the one who struck the blow that ended Meredith's life, what can I say either? Grace might be a good tutor. The Free Mages put her on their own council, anyway."
"I think you're well within your rights to take an interest in children who are exploited or abused," he continued. "But interfering because you don't like their tutor? I'd avoid this one, love. I know you feel guilty about Alison and want to make up for 'neglect'—which it wasn't, love—but I don't think you should get involved again unless you hear something strongly against Grace."
She considered his argument before nodding.
Caitlyn and Anders continued to keep abreast of the situation with the Free Mages as they settled into regular lives. She had no intelligence that the enemy was planning a major offensive. There were gaps in her intelligence-gathering, unfortunately. They would not know of a naval attack until it passed by the coast off Markham, and possibly not until it reached the patrol, since Markham proper was rather removed from the coast. But there was no news of ship or troop movements since the enemy's defeat at Wildervale. That left the Free Mages, well, free.
Caitlyn was immensely proud of them for not causing difficulties in the city. Kirkwall had a long and sordid history of mages turning to blood sacrifice and demon-worship, for some unknown reason. There were strong suggestions that a Tevinter cult had performed mass blood sacrifice in a ritualistic pattern beneath the city. Caitlyn herself had dark theories about Corypheus, the ghoul that she had slain in 9:33 that apparently had been a high priest of the Old God Dumat. Had the Magisters Sidereal—who she did believe had existed—perhaps done their sacrificial ritual and torn the Veil near Kirkwall? It would explain some things. But many more mages did no evil deeds. If there were some malignant remnant of ancient evil, it did not affect most of them. In the end, it was a personal choice to hearken to faint demonic whispers or not—and the Free Mages were behaving very responsibly indeed.
Things seemed to be going well, the mages integrating into Kirkwall society smoothly. Many non-mages had adapted to their presence. That, Caitlyn thought, is what comes of having a mage as your Champion and Viscountess. Others were able to accept one exceptional mage family—a Champion, a Grey Warden, and their children—but needed time to accept hundreds. But after the opponents of mage rights had committed mass murder in a violent mob, torn the Chantry apart, and declared war, people could not credibly claim that mages were the ones disrupting order. Caitlyn and Anders were certain that, buoyed by the success at Wildervale, the absence of bad news about the Free Mages' adaptation to ordinary life, and Caitlyn's governance, more Circles would rebel.
Perhaps, Caitlyn thought occasionally while musing on this, if that happened, the schism might even decide the war was hopeless and give it up. They hadn't been very interested in fighting since Wildervale. They would need to regroup after that defeat, of course—they had lost several hundred Templars and soldiers—but perhaps, if the people of the enemy cities saw that free mages were living normal lives, they would lose the will to fight. It was a hopeful idea that Caitlyn sometimes indulged, even if she didn't quite believe it.
They were shocked and enraged when the letter from Cassandra Pentaghast arrived informing them that, instead, fearing more Circle rebellions, Lord Seeker Lambert had dissolved the College of Magi entirely. He had already banned the College from meeting without Templars or Seekers present, for fear that the First Enchanters might vote for independence. Now he had disbanded the Circle mages' leadership council altogether.
"This is a major provocation," Caitlyn exclaimed, throwing the letter down on her table after she and Anders had read it. "Things were peaceful since the Battle of Wildervale. Is he trying to provoke hot conflict again?"
"He might be," Anders said darkly. "He's probably in sympathy with the schism and hates mages." He glowered at the letter. "And per fucking usual, our supposed ally, Justinia, does exactly dick to stop or overrule this."
He was very angry, Caitlyn could tell by his choice of words. She was too. "I don't even see the point in writing to Cassandra to complain," she said. "We both know what she'll say: Justinia 'can't' act because she'll lose the Seekers and be vulnerable. It's probably even true. But what it means, whether Cassandra admits it or not, is that Justinia has lost control of the Seekers."
"If she ever bloody had it to begin with. But if the Lord Seeker can do this, knowing that she disapproves but is powerless to stop him, what else might he do? If he breaks with Justinia, he could even launch a rogue Exalted March."
Caitlyn gasped. "You really think—"
"Why not?" Anders stared at Caitlyn intensely. "If she's effectively lost control of the Seekers, and I agree that she has, what could she do about it? Threaten to sack him? If he has the bulk of the Seekers with him, what difference would that make?"
"None whatsoever," Caitlyn replied rhetorically, "and he knows that he could just march north to the schism and kiss their asses instead." Worry lined her face as she contemplated it. "That's the ugly truth: What matters is brute numerical strength. The one who controls the masses—or the armed masses, at least—controls the outcome." A darkness came over her as she uttered these words and considered their full implication. That means me too.
But she could not focus on the application of this truism to herself, either her mage army or her domestic political situation. They had another, very serious problem to consider right now.
"And he wouldn't take this step if he didn't have the Seekers on his side. The majority of the Seekers support dissolving the College of Magi, Caitlyn," Anders said pointedly. His gaze was intense. "That's a huge step to provoke the Circle mages and embolden the schism."
The war was no illusion, Caitlyn realized with regret. It would not go away on its own, and the good example of free mages living peaceably would not sway the fanatically determined. "I'm calling an emergency meeting of the War Council," she decided, "and... I know you don't like her... but Petrice should be part of it. This is Chantry business. It affects her too."
He smothered a grimace. "Her support is important for you... and it's not as if this could be kept secret from her anyway. The Lord Seeker meant for everyone involved in this war to know about it."
To Caitlyn and Anders' surprise, most of the War Council did not seem overly concerned at the news or future threats it might portend.
"If the Lord Seeker breaks with Justinia and launches his own Exalted March on Kirkwall, we should look at it as a military offensive," Cullen said. "He will be acting as an ally to the schism if he does that, and they are the enemy. It wouldn't be a Chantry-sanctioned one, so if he does it, we fight."
"We don't have enough forces to fight the Seekers," Alain said.
"But if the Lord Seeker does that, what's to keep the rest of the Circles from joining us?" Petra said.
"True..."
Caitlyn interjected. "You truly don't think this is a message of support to the schism? That the Lord Seeker shares their goals?"
"Oh, it probably is," Aveline said, "but what can we do about that? We must be ready to fight them, whatever messages they send."
"You know, I thought more about this after my outburst, love," Anders said, frowning in thought. Caitlyn smothered a smile at the fact that he used affectionate names for her even in formal meetings. "And I think that, if anything, it will hasten rebellions from other Circles. Last year, their leaders could meet. They had to have Templars spying on them, but they could meet. They had hope. It was a false hope, of course, but they had it. Now, the Lord Seeker is cracking down. He has taken that chance, that hope, away from them. When people lose all hope in the system, they turn to... other measures."
"Such as a rebellion like we had here in Kirkwall," Caitlyn mused.
Anders nodded. "The Lord Seeker thinks to crush them under his boot. And that might well work if nobody had declared independence yet. But every one of those First Enchanters knows about the rebellions here, in Kinloch Hold, and in Markham. They know about the Battle of Wildervale and the Free Mages' lives here. They know about you. You're a symbol of resistance, and this act can't take that away. The Lord Seeker has likely helped our cause."
"I never thought I would say this, but I think Anders is right," Cullen said.
Anders gave the former Templar a mocking-shocked look. "Incredible! What's next? Let's be on the lookout for the Maker returning to Thedas!"
The Grand Cleric's lips grew thin, though Caitlyn thought she detected a laugh held back. "Do mind your tongue, Lord Consort," she said.
Anders was not in the mood for her scolding. "The point," he said with the aggrieved air of one explaining a joke, "is that the Chantry itself said that won't happen anytime soon. See, I'm agreeing with doctrine in my joke!"
Petrice smiled thinly, then addressed the council. "I agree with those who held that this news changes little for the military side of things. We all knew that there was a chance the Lord Seeker would lead the Order to rebel against Divine Justinia. This edict just increases the chances of that, to all appearances. Those tasked with warfare must be prepared for that. But I do think this adds a new concern to the domestic side, and as leader of the Chantry in Kirkwall, I will be making plans for how to respond to it."
Caitlyn and Anders learned a few days later what Petrice had in mind as her "response" to the Lord Seeker's order. The Grand Cleric sent a messenger to the Keep requesting their presence in the Chantry to discuss the priest's plan. Caitlyn was affronted at being summoned there like a sister on an errand, but, she supposed grudgingly, the Grand Cleric did have equal status with her.
She barely managed to subdue a scowl at the sight of Varnell and Orwald, the ex-Templar and ex-guard who had backed Petrice so strongly in the Qunari conflict. Varnell was a violent, rather stupid zealot.
"Why is he still here, and in what capacity?" Anders growled under his breath. Caitlyn wondered that too... but they did not need to wait long to learn. The high priest ushered them into a private office, without Varnell or Orwald, and closed the door tightly.
"I wanted to discuss this with you, Hawke, before announcing the decision to those two," she explained. "They know my general idea, but not the details."
Caitlyn folded her arms on the table and regarded the priest evenly. "What idea is this? And what role would those two play in it?"
"The Lord Seeker's order is throwing down the gauntlet," Petrice declared, "and while we understand that the reason Divine Justinia has not overruled him is that she fears revolt and assassination, others, less aware of the machinations, may think that her silence is assent. This perception would be extremely harmful to our cause. The schism and its 'fellow-travelers' have used Maker-fearing Andrastian mages, in Circles or out, as a scapegoat, even spreading the heresy that the Maker considers magic a curse—while yet letting people be born mages. Meanwhile real threats lurk to the north. These people's obsession with magic prevents action against them."
"You know I agree with that view," Caitlyn said tightly.
"The Lord Seeker means to help these people, and because he holds the Divine hostage, we must be the ones to defy him. We must show that Kirkwall will not tolerate such messages of support for schism and heresy. My proposal is that from this day forward, the Andrastian Chantry, founded by Kordillus Drakon, headed by Divine Justinia or her duly elected successors, is the only legal religion in Kirkwall. All other so-called faiths are heresy, punishable by burning."
Caitlyn's heart started thumping. Anders gave her a look of shock and fear.
"As for what Varnell and Orwald would do—I propose an organization to find and try accused heretics. They would always have trials," she said. "I cannot restart the Inquisition, as I don't have the Divine's approval to do that... but I can name it something else. Varnell and Orwald are interested in holding leadership roles in this organization."
Hold it right there, Caitlyn thought. I didn't assent to this. She interrupted the priest immediately. "I understand your urge to want to do this," she said carefully. Maker help me, I actually do. "We are at war. Enemies in our midst must be dealt with as traitors. But your solution goes too far and would ensnare others. A lot of surface dwarves still hold to some version of the dwarven faith, and even the Chantry has called them 'Children of the Stone.'"
"The Maker created the world and all within it, including the so-called Stone," Petrice replied.
"Nevertheless," Caitlyn said, not wanting to detour down the road of non-falsifiable doctrine, "the dwarves are not an enemy. Why make them into one? And there are others too. You and I are signatories to a treaty with the Sabrae Clan that allows them to practice their own faith. Yes, that is what it allows," she emphasized as Petrice looked to object. "They have to allow peaceful missionaries traveling on the Sundermount, but there is no clause requiring them to speak the words of conversion. They could, probably would, take this proclamation as abrogating that treaty. Kirkwall would lose their support and protection." She fixed Petrice with a stare. "There's more. There are citizens of Tevinter who own property in Kirkwall. The last thing I need is to make an enemy of the Tevinter Imperium by executing its citizens as heretics."
Petrice met her gaze with a steely one of her own. "You have already killed Tevinter citizens. You have made war, so to speak, on their slaver gangs."
"Because slaving is a capital crime that they commit in Kirkwall's sovereign territory. I'd like to execute every slave-holding Tevinter noble who has property here, I assure you—but if they don't bring their slaves with them when they visit, they are not breaking a law within our borders."
"I heard of a Tevinter delegation to the Keep a couple of years ago that you and your friends executed in secret."
Caitlyn was stunned; she'd almost forgotten the small group of Fenris's former master Danarius, his sister Varania, and Gascard DuPuis. How in the Void do you know about that? she thought—before quickly realizing that Petrice had loyalists and supporters throughout the city.
"They were not 'executed,'" she responded. "And they were not an official delegation. They came in secret without the approval of the Imperium and tried to broker an under-the-table illicit—and dishonorable—alliance with me. I still thought to let them leave in peace, but instead, they chose to threaten me." Blackmail me, actually, she thought, and I will never tell you with what. If you knew DuPuis blackmailed me as a blood mage, you wouldn't be talking with me right now. Whoever was your source, they didn't know that sordid bit.
Petrice scowled, aware that she had lost that line of argument.
"All I'm saying is that the Chantry has exercised some tolerance of other faiths when there is no direct threat. There has been no effort to forcibly convert the dwarves, and the Chantry even buys lyrium from them. It has been years since there was even an organized effort to force the Dalish to convert. Many Tevinter nationals live or travel outside their homeland. There are even human citizens who have unorthodox beliefs of one sort or another." Anders and I are two. Neither of us believes that the Chant of Light is the only path to the Maker. "In fact, what even is the orthodox belief about magic is, shall we say, very much in flux. Divine Justinia has let the Circle mages be independent, but she hasn't issued an official holy writ to endorse it."
"That is true enough, I grant."
"And it's a common belief that the corruption of the Golden City is just an allegory about the sin of pride, for instance," she continued—noting the irony that, due to their interactions with a pair of ghouls who had apparently been Magisters Sidereal, she and Anders did believe that doctrine was likely true. "Some scholars express that view. Are they suddenly heretics to be executed?"
Petrice looked uncomfortable and trapped. "I may have misspoken at the beginning. I do not intend the dictum to go as far as that. They are wrong, but no, not heretics deserving of death."
Encouraged and determined to press on to a win, Caitlyn continued aggressively. "We are at war with the schism, and as far as I'm concerned, the Qunari are a hostile power too. There are reasons to ban those beliefs. But we do not need to create enemies. We already have plenty." As she spoke the words, she recalled that Cassandra Pentaghast had advised her exactly this.
"You think as the Viscountess and a war leader," said Petrice. "I am the Grand Cleric of the true Chantry. Would you ask me to condone some false beliefs but not others, based on a secular reason such as the demands of war?"
"I'm not asking you to 'condone' anything," Caitlyn replied. "Declare them false beliefs. That's the Chantry position anyway. State that you believe them to be wrong. But criminally banning religious beliefs, under penalty of death? That's a wholly different matter. If you want to do that, limit it to the so-called Orthodox Chantry and the Qun, because those are violently hostile. They've made war on Kirkwall... or are currently doing so."
"You suggest that I declare that there are erroneous beliefs and then there are heresies punishable by death, then?"
"Yes, pretty much. That's been the de facto unofficial Chantry position for ages, has it not? At least you'd be naming the heresies specifically." And it would mirror the military enemies of Kirkwall, she added to herself.
The priest considered. "I suppose this is an acceptable compromise, though I would add support for the Tevinter schism in anyone except an actual Tevinter national. No exceptions, however, for citizens of the so-called Orthodox Chantry schism. This may open me to charges of double standards... but as you say, they are making war on Kirkwall, and Tevinter is not, and to achieve holy ends, we must balance the Maker's truth with realities of the world."
Anders finally spoke up. "Why does Varnell have to be involved? The man is a violent fanatic. You have to know that. How is this a good idea?"
She raised her eyebrows at him. "I am well aware of Varnell's... tendencies, yes. Some of his views are wrong. He believes that there are some thinking peoples who are condemned to be absent from the Maker's sight no matter what they do or believe. This is not doctrinal. We are called to spread the Chant in all lands under the Sun. Even the oxmen can walk in the Maker's light if they choose. I have attempted to get through to Varnell about this."
Caitlyn scowled. You kept him around all these years anyway. I wonder if you keep him here to make yourself seem more moderate and reasonable.
"But we were just speaking of compromises and realities of this world. Varnell is a useful soldier. He is loyal to me and will follow my orders, and that is all that he needs to do."
"Then I do hope your orders are what we agreed they should be," Anders cut in rather harshly. "As Caitlyn said, we don't need a band of 'useful soldiers' going around Kirkwall, breaking people's doors down, arresting people for heresy because they have a heterodox belief or two."
"That is not what I intend for the Suprema of Kirkwall—the name I mean to give it—and I shall follow the Viscountess's advice about limiting arrests to practitioners of the Qun, Kirkwall citizens who turned to the Tevinter schism, and adherents of this new schism in the northern Free Marches." She gazed evenly at them. "There may need to be pressure on the loyal but heterodox after the war, to ensure unity in a reunited Chantry. But not death, and in any case, that is a problem for a future date."
Anders was silent on the way back to the Keep. He finally spoke once they were inside their personal quarters, behind locked and warded doors.
"I guess I'd better be careful what I say in public now," he said spitefully, giving his wife a rather accusing look. "Now that she's going to have a gang of vigilantes loyal to her—excuse me, a 'Suprema'—hunting down 'heretics.'"
Caitlyn had her own misgivings too. She was conflicted about the idea. It was wise to have zero tolerance for treasonous loyalties in wartime, and Petrice had had a point that Justinia's silence, however tactically necessary, could give the impression that she supported the Lord Seeker—which would undermine the Free Mages' cause. She just didn't like the explicitly religious aspect of Petrice's proposed solution, and she did not think Anders was being fair by giving her that look of blame.
"She wouldn't dare move against you," she retorted curtly. "I talked her down from what she'd originally had in mind. I'm one of the few who can. Don't you look at me like that, Anders. You know this isn't my fault."
He met her gaze with his own. It was steely and fixed. "You didn't completely talk her down. She insisted on including the Tevinter Chantry. You know full well I have views like theirs... plus that amulet you gave me."
"To my knowledge, the only Tevinter-specific view you hold is that 'never to rule over him' could mean that we aren't to let our magic dominate us. And is that just a Tevinter Chantry view anymore? Justinia has let me remain in place as Viscountess. It rather looks like that's an Andrastian Chantry view too now."
"I hope you're right," he said doubtfully. "You heard what she said about 'pressure on the loyal but heterodox.' She's not going to stop with this."
"And if she doesn't, I'll deal with that after the war."
Petrice's people tacked up notices declaring reinstatement of the death penalty for heresy—as defined in the proclamation—by burning at the stake, and declaring the creation of the Suprema of Kirkwall to find and try accused heretics. Over the next few weeks, the news quickly spread.
The approximately two dozen former Templars in Kirkwall had been at loose ends for over a year. Ser Thrask and Cullen, despite the latter's resignation, were regarded as unofficial joint leaders of what remained of the Order in the City. Justinia had not appointed a new Knight-Commander for the city, since its Circle was disbanded. Of the other high-ranking Chantry officials who had such authority, the position of Knight-Vigilant remained vacant, and the Lord Seeker had virtually ignored Kirkwall, at least officially.
Perhaps it is because he considers us rebels, and what you do to rebels is make war on them, not install replacements as if it's business as usual, Caitlyn thought darkly. But whatever the reason, Kirkwall had no real Templar Order anymore. She did not even want to think of where they might be obtaining lyrium. Probably the Coterie, she thought, unless Justinia is sending them supplies in secret as she is for the Free Mages. Something else to look into.
A large number of the city's Templars had died on First Day 9:37 Dragon defending Meredith Stannard. Those who remained had split between the generally pro-mage moderates, who took orders from Ser Thrask and Cullen, and the ones loyal to Petrice first and foremost. When she created the Suprema, most of these loyalists went to the Chantry to pledge their service to her cause.
It did not take more than a few weeks for the heresy trials to begin, and following that, the first three convictions, two men and a woman.
It had been many ages since there was a public burning at the stake as official punishment by the Chantry. Though it remained on the books, the practice of the auto-da-fé, to use the Antivan term, had fallen out of favor in recent years. Divine Amara III had grotesquely abused it to terrorize and persecute her personal enemies, and later Conclaves had declared her an anti-divine, a false Successor, for her conduct. The rite—at least its punitive use—had become almost unheard of since then. It had dwindled to a voluntary test of faith—sisters, brothers, and Templars soaking their hands and then holding them over a holy brazier for a few moments—and even that was rare.
Now the full "glory" of a condemned heretic—three, in fact—burned at the stake would be seen again, and a great many citizens of Kirkwall were interested.
Caitlyn did not want to go, but she knew she had little choice. She was determined not to let her children see it—certainly not Jo Beth, and she forbade Mal from going either. A ten-year-old didn't need to witness this. Leandra, Charade, and Merrill went to the Keep to watch the little ones while Caitlyn and Anders reluctantly got ready to watch this horrible spectacle.
I suppose it is necessary, Caitlyn thought stoically as she took his arm and left the Keep. They actually were traitors. I will give Petrice this—their trials were not show trials, and they openly declared their allegiance to the "Divine in Tantervale" at court. They are traitors. This is not the execution of innocents. And the last time fanatics were allowed to run free in Kirkwall, they organized a mob, assaulted the Keep, and killed eight hundred civilians.
The stakes were erected in front of the Chantry, with Varnell—again in full Templar regalia, Caitlyn noted—standing guard. The condemned were forced to wear shabby robes marking them as heretics, and Orwald was in the process of tying their bodies to the stakes as Caitlyn and Anders arrived. Oil-soaked kindling already rested at their feet, and Varnell's loyalists carried torches. There were a couple of priests as well, and to one side, a woman in Chantry sister regalia, her face hidden by a large hood, stood as if awaiting orders.
I wonder who she is. She has to be part of this Suprema too. Somehow, in the midst of this tableau, this person was the most unnerving of all to Caitlyn, though she could not put her finger on why.
Anders was gaping at a group in the crowd of spectators, Caitlyn noticed. She followed his gaze and then realized why. There was a small knot of fifteen mages, staves in hand, greedy and vindictive looks on their faces.
"About time we get to watch a priest killing these fuckers for a change instead of us," one of the mages remarked loudly enough for Caitlyn and Anders to hear.
Well, she thought, I understand the sentiment... it does make sense for Circle mages to feel that way... lifetimes of being faithful Andrastians, honoring the Maker, and they're still blamed for everything. Scapegoated, as Petrice said. This must be very satisfying indeed...
The reading of the sentences began, and the crowd's murmurs subsided.
"You stand convicted of high treason and heresy," Petrice declared, "and condemned to die by the flames of Our Lady Andraste. Yet even at this time, the end of your lives, you may yet seek absolution with the Maker if your remorse is true. May He turn His gaze upon you." She turned to Varnell and motioned for him to bring the torches forward. As he advanced, she turned back to the condemned. "Have you any last words?"
The woman glared back. "I defy you," she seethed. "I defy you and those murdering apostates!" She sneered at Caitlyn and Anders. "You are the ones who will prowl the Void!"
"We are righteous martyrs!" exclaimed the younger man. "The Maker will honor us for our devotion!"
"The Divine in Tantervale is the true Successor!" added the older man.
Petrice's people had clearly had enough, and if she were honest with herself, so had Caitlyn. Why do we have this custom? she wondered. All it does is allow prisoners to spout defiance in their deaths. It makes them seem big and courageous. In Ferelden, before King Calenhad, the teyrns cut their enemies' tongues out. Maybe we should do that instead.
The mages were also restless. "Just burn them already!" one muttered.
Varnell and Orwald clearly agreed. The designated executioner shoved the burning torches into the oil-soaked tinder at the feet of the stakes, and at once, the prisoners blazed up.
Caitlyn tried to block out their screams and not look too closely at the blisters exploding on their skin, their shabby robes catching fire. She remembered another group of enemies that died this way: the three dozen or so cowards who had joined the Satinalia Massacre mob in fear even though they supposedly had not shared Mettin's convictions of hate. I burned them, she thought, but if the other members of that mob, the true believers, the ones who were just like these traitors, had been burned before they could organize, over eight hundred others would be alive today.
With that, she found strength. They are traitors. They declared their treason openly in their last words. They deserve this. This is justice.
At that thought, she took Anders' hand privately. He squeezed hers back and gave her a sympathetic but conflicted look. Evidently he was having similar thoughts.
But the prisoners were not yet dead, just in agony as the flames crawled up their bodies and ate away at their flesh. They were alive and conscious enough to continue speaking, and now they were bawling out the Chant of Light.
"Those who oppose thee shall know the wrath of heaven," cried the older man. "The wind shall tear their nations from the face of the earth!"
Caitlyn stiffened. That wasn't subtle. Are they going to allow this?
"See what My children in arrogance wrought!" cried the younger man.
"Let the blade pass through the flesh. Let my blood touch the ground. Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the—"
"They take the Chant of Light in vain!" one of the spectators cried out in anguish and outrage.
Varnell had finally had it. "Enough of this blasphemy!" he snarled. He turned to the hooded Chantry sister who had thus far been silent as she watched the proceedings. "Keili!"
The young woman lowered her hood, revealing a hard-eyed but pretty face and razor-straight shoulder-length dark hair. Anders gasped, amber eyes wide in shock, and Caitlyn felt the pressure of his hand increase around hers. Her own jaw nearly dropped when the sister—no, not a Chantry sister! Caitlyn realized—cast a searing fireball at the condemned. It struck in a blaze of orange light and intense heat, silencing everything except the crackling of the flames that consumed their bodies.
"She was in the Circle in Kinloch Hold!" Anders whispered to Caitlyn, still shocked. "She hated being a mage. I can't believe she even survived, let alone..." He shook his head in astonishment.
After the charred skeletons were taken down to be disposed of, and the crowd had dispersed, Caitlyn and Anders insisted on meeting the mage, Keili. She had no objection, and indeed, she recognized Anders. She bowed deeply.
"It is an honor, Your Graces," she said.
"You are very different from how I remember you," Anders said. "You wanted to be made Tranquil." He sighed, remembering things he wished had never happened—both that Templars had done, and that he had done.
"I know," Keili said, eyes hard and sharp. "I was a wicked fool. The Maker created me as a mage, and it was not for me to try to change His holy design, to imagine in my arrogance that I knew better than He did."
"Well, I'm glad you see it that way now," Anders replied curtly.
"I haven't seen you at the Gallows," Caitlyn said. "Do you have a place of your own, or are you living in the Chantry?"
"At the Chantry, Your Grace. Grand Cleric Petrice is one of the holiest people I have ever met. It was my dream to serve her as soon as I learned of her actions against the Qunari four years ago!"
"You fought with Petra and the other mages to escape, then?" Anders said. "I would've thought you would have been with the ones who are still in Ferelden... or that you would've gotten your wish with the Rite."
"The Maker's will was effected in mysterious ways," Keili declared, zeal shining in her face as she spoke. Her cheeks were flushed with religious joy. "Wynne saved me, Petra, and some others. She told us to defend the youngest children with our magic—to fight Templars if it came to it! I was shocked, but in the end, it did not need to happen."
"Warden-Commander Cousland cleared out the demons," Caitlyn said.
"Indeed. She was an instrument of His will too! But so few of us were left. The Templars did not want to use the Rite of Tranquility. They needed to rebuild the Circle, they said. They would no longer give it to volunteers."
"The Maker's mysterious ways indeed," Anders muttered darkly. "A blood mage coven and Templars who wanted more mages to tyrannize over."
"I prayed for Tranquility... but then, at last, they told me I was to be Harrowed. I passed. It surprised even me," she said, "but I thought of the Maker the whole time, and He was my shield against demons. But then... when I came out of the Harrowing... I was an Enchanter. I was a mage and would have to accept that. It was, from that moment, illegal to make me Tranquil."
"Not here, it wouldn't have been," Anders said bitterly, remembering Karl. "Or... well, it was, but that didn't stop Meredith. She and the monsters who revered her did it to any mage they wanted, Harrowed or not."
Caitlyn took his hands in hers and squeezed them compassionately. He gave her a sad but grateful look.
"I had to accept what I was, what the Maker had created me to be," Keili continued. "Then, I heard of the events in Kirkwall with the Qunari, and how magic had defeated their great, feared leader. I heard of Your Graces—mages fighting side by side with the new Grand Cleric. I knew then that I wanted to meet her. That was my goal for the next two years, somehow to enter her service. I knew that the Maker would show me the way. When Petra led the rebellion, I prayed to Him and He told me that this was my chance to carry out His will for me. He wanted me to use my magic to serve His great warriors such as the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall. As I said, she is one of the holiest people I have ever heard of. The Maker told me in prayer that she was righteous." Reverence for Petrice filled Keili's face at these words. "After we had won our independence, I vocally supported going to Kirkwall, of course."
Caitlyn found this explanation exceedingly creepy and disturbing. Leliana had also believed that the Maker spoke to His children, but the belief was warm and compassionate coming from her. With Keili, Caitlyn could see little but glittery-eyed zealotry and adulation of a person about whom Caitlyn herself had complicated feelings.
"I have not joined the army, with all due respect," she said, bowing again. "My place is beside the Grand Cleric, especially now that she has created this Suprema to find the heretics and schismatics. I will use my magic not just to serve man as Our Lady commanded, but for an even greater purpose: explicitly to glorify our Maker. My heart swelled in rapture in that fiery moment, using my magic to silence the blasphemy of heretics." Her eyes gleamed in pride.
Caitlyn decided it was time to end this discussion. Anders was looking meaningfully and impatiently at her, clearly wanting to talk alone, and she had heard about all that she could stand of this. "I am glad that you are among us, and I am glad that you found your purpose as a mage and are no longer ashamed of your magic," she said briefly to Keili.
"Indeed I am not, Your Grace. The Maker gave it to me and I intend to give back to Him with my gift."
"Well," Anders said as they finally extricated themselves and returned to the Keep, "if you ask me, the last thing we need is a mage who is a wild-eyed, crazy zealot with a fancy for Petrice."
Caitlyn gaped at him. "You really think—"
"No," he admitted. "That's a joke. A poor one. I had to joke," he said, "because otherwise it's just too appalling. I'm glad she didn't become Tranquil. I'm glad she joined the rebellion, even if it was for this reason. But—Maker help us all, she worships the ground that woman walks on. And she proved that she'll burn people alive for her."
"I killed for her too," Caitlyn said quietly, looking down.
"She did it for zealotry. You did it strategically, for the political alliance—"
"Isn't that worse in a way?"
"But you made sure that you didn't kill anyone for Petrice except as an act of justice."
"Well, if you want to make that argument, you heard those criminals too. Heresy charges aside, they were guilty of high treason."
He nodded. "They were. They deserved it, and it was important to shut them up instead of letting them bleat out the Chant of Light, which might well have impressed people otherwise."
"I agree completely," she said, remembering her own thoughts about allowing prisoners to speak their last words publicly.
"But the worry I have is whether this Suprema will always convict and burn only traitors." He gave her a meaningful, pleading look. "Please. I know you can't control everything about it, but please do what you can."
However, those were the only three executions for a while—long enough, indeed, for word of the proceedings to reach Cumberland and Val Royeaux, and long enough for Cassandra Pentaghast to make an unannounced visit. Caitlyn learned of it only after a messenger from the Chantry came to the Keep to tell her.
Anders had sharp opinions about that. "So she isn't telling you in advance, but instead goes right to the priest. To scold her or support her, I wonder?"
"Why would Cassandra have told me in advance? This isn't my doing. I'd actually be offended if she had come to me, as if I had been the originator." She considered. "That said, I think I should be a part of the discussion."
His lips curled. "You do that, then. I'm not going. A curse on the lot of them." He picked up Jo Beth from the sofa on which she rested and cradled the baby in his arms. A dark, wry, rather cynical smile crossed his handsome face. "Maker turn His gaze on you, Cait."
She hardly knew what to make of that. It was obviously ironic and sarcastic, but there seemed to be a darker and bitterer undertone to it that she could not quite read. Is he implying that he thinks I'm taking sides with this and against him?
Cassandra had not yet begun to talk with the Grand Cleric when Caitlyn arrived at the Chantry. Apparently, they were waiting for her arrival. The discussion—or argument—began almost as soon as Caitlyn entered the private room where the guest and the Grand Cleric awaited.
"I am here because of the extremely widespread news that you have revived the auto-da-fé here in Kirkwall and have, in fact, performed executions," Cassandra said to Petrice. She regarded the priest with a steely glare. "You are aware that this method of punishment had not been formally employed by the Chantry since 5:85 Towers under the tyranny of the false Divine Amara?"
Petrice gazed back levelly. "That woman burned her enemies under false accusations of blood magic. She used a Knight-Divine as her right hand—"
Cassandra cleared her throat. "As a Divine's Right Hand, I would appreciate if you did not use that term for such vileness."
Petrice smirked, and it was clear to Caitlyn that she had said this bit of pettiness on purpose to discomfit Cassandra. "As you wish, Seeker. As I was saying, Amara had a Knight-Divine, rumored to be her lover, obtaining false confessions from her enemies. The darkest version of this rumor is that the pair of them found... carnal titillation in the burning of their foes. Despicable, and she was cast out posthumously for good reason. There is nothing of the kind occurring here. As the Viscountess can attest, the three condemned gave full, free, and proud confessions of their heresy and support for the schism."
Caitlyn had no choice but to agree. "It's true, Cassandra. They did."
Emboldened, Petrice continued. "The auto-da-fé may have fallen out of fashion, but it remains a part of canon law."
Cassandra glowered. "It does, you are correct, but Divine Justinia does not condone wanton usage of it when tensions are so high."
Petrice fell silent for a moment, but it was a portentous silence, not a contemplative one. "Seeker, Viscountess Hawke recently said something to me that is very true and very important," she said. "Making enemies of friends and allies is unwise."
Cassandra bristled. She clearly recognized her own advice in these words, refashioned by Caitlyn and passed on. "Is that a threat, Grand Cleric?"
"Not at all. I would merely ask you to tell Her Perfection that we are well aware that she does not have the forces to openly oppose the Lord Seeker even when he publicly undermines her mission of reform. I would therefore advise her that she does not need to alienate the supporters that she still has. Kirkwall is a bastion of loyalty to her. If she ignores the Lord Seeker's behavior but dispatches you here, her friends will think she is acting against them. She will lose supporters."
"That is all very well," Cassandra retorted, "but I will be sending trustworthy Seekers here to watch these 'Suprema' trials to ensure that they are not engaging in persecution, and really are finding schismatics and enemies."
Caitlyn thought that was an excellent idea to keep Petrice, Varnell, Keili, and their Suprema from going too far. Petrice was not happy, but she had no power to overrule the Right Hand of the Divine and a Seeker... and, in Caitlyn's view, she had no reason to fear loyal Seeker oversight of her trials. It would only protect the innocent, not the guilty.
Unless Anders is correct and she means to expand these trials after the war. That dark thought consumed Caitlyn all the way back to the Keep.
"You trust the Seekers to keep her in check?" Anders said in disbelief. "After what the Lord Seeker did? The man might as well have declared his loyalty to the schism and mage-haters!"
"I trust Cassandra," Caitlyn replied. "The Lord Seeker undoubtedly has a majority of his order with him, as we agreed, but a majority isn't everyone. There must be others who are loyal to Cassandra and Justinia, and I'm sure they know who they are."
Anders turned aside, staring out one of the tall windows of the Keep. He would not even face her. "I guess what bothers me is that this gives the sanction of these very 'loyal Seekers'—and Divine Justinia herself—to something that I really don't think we should be encouraging. If her silence gives the impression of assent to the Lord Seeker's order for the Circles, her action definitely gives the impression that she assents to this."
"Anders, what would you have me do?" she burst out. "We cannot allow treason to grow in the bowels of the city when we are at war, and it so happens that in this war, treason and heresy are the same thing. Petrice is doing the dirty work. I can use that without loving it. Her hands get dirty; mine stay clean. Or would you rather that I did it?" she added. "Is that it? You want me to arrange for seditionists and traitors to be hunted down and executed? You think that would make everything better?"
His face crumpled in conflict. "I—I don't know," he said brokenly. "Fuck. I don't know. I just don't trust any of these people, and Justice doesn't like it."
So that's the problem, Caitlyn thought miserably. How can I argue against a Spirit of Justice? She turned aside in regret and headed to her office alone. Her last sight was the bereft, wretched expression on his face.
All this—this Suprema, the revival of the auto-da-fé, the Lord Seeker's edict, all of it—has put a chill into our marriage lately, Caitlyn thought as she closed her office door behind her. It's come between us. Anders feels threatened by these events, and honestly, he has a right to... but he has to understand that I have to keep allies in my court. Petrice has not executed anyone who wasn't guilty of treason. They declared it themselves; they were not tortured into false confessions. Who cares if she says it's for heresy? As far as I'm concerned, it's for treason. I cannot lose the domestic front any more than I can lose the battlefield, and letting treason fester in the city will lose me the domestic front.
Notes: Well, Caitlyn, what did you think would happen when you elevated a demagogic zealot to be Grand Cleric?
Yes, she had to do it. I firmly believe that removing Elthina before the Qunari kill the Viscount would be a major turning point, and that's obviously the assumption I've followed. And of course, I've run (maybe farther than I should have, but it's my AU) with the idea of Petrice as not having a problem with (supposedly) Andrastian mages and even being willing to expand their rights. But any choice has consequences, and because of this big AU choice of who is Grand Cleric when Dumar is killed, here we are in Earth 2 (well, Thedas 2): accused heretics burned at the stake.
The Suprema was a court of the Spanish Inquisition, since I can't use "Inquisitor" for obvious reasons. And I've made the story of Amara III a bit more salacious than it is in canon, inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire and Aerys II's sexual fetish for burning people alive.
Caitlyn did not do Sebastian's quests, so she doesn't know anything about the Harimanns other than public information.
About Keili, she was already a fanatic, so I think this is quite plausible as an evolution for her. If someone is inclined toward cultish behavior, that tendency is a lot more resilient than any specific ideas they may believe.
