The first thing you do this week is find Wesley and Karla. You had to exchange some silver for copper with the village merchants in order to get the amounts you need. You hand each of them a small bag filled with copper coins.
"As of last week you are each entitled to a wage of approximately ten copper coins a day, paid weekly. This is last week's pay. You will receive this week's seven days from now." You tell the two.
You had half expected grumbling about the lack of backpay. You are ready to inform them that you consider the first week a probationary period, to prevent unscrupulous humans from running off with your money. These complaints however never eventuate. Wesley simply thanks you and puts his money away.
Karla hesitates, glancing out a window at the walls. "What about the Dalish? They ain't getting paid."
Her concern is genuinely touching, so you are quick to put her worries to rest. "The Dalish do not use money among themselves. Further, those gentlemen are not in my employ. They are simply trading security for housing during a transitional period of their lives."
Karla looks mutinous and says, "I'd like to hear it from them."
You give her a look, she is fortunate you are not one of the local nobles. Though that is perhaps what has emboldened her to speak to you in such a manner. Since you do not care, you call one of the Dalish in to ask about whether they are willing to work for you for pay.
His response is not what you were expecting, "Currency is an instrument of bourgeoise, human, oppression. By the accumulation of physical capital, the currently entrenched systems of class are reinforced. Thereby contributing to the suffering of the working, elven, class…"
Fortunately, the de-facto leader shows up and interrupts him.
"Sorry about that." He says, "Karl's a former city elf, he gets like that sometimes."
That puts an end to Karla's objections, and she takes her weekly pay with good grace.
You leave your staff to their work and go to one of the unused rooms in the building. You move all the furniture aside, piling it high against the wall. You intend to reunite Fëa and Hröa today. You do not know how much your physical body will move during the process and want to take any risks. You stand in a large room that is all but empty. You take a deep breath and try to think of any other preparations you might need to make.
Every step has now been taken. All is in readiness. The only thing you need to do now is take the plunge. It is time to move your soul through the Veil and into the real world. Though you are certain that it will work, you are concerned about the possible repercussions of your attempt. Caution has coloured your every move when dealing with this problem, now that the time has come you have to ask yourself what safeties you could include should the worst come to the worst.
You take one last look around the room to triple check for anything out of place. Finding nothing you head out to acquire your last security measure. You find Merrill by following the sound of singing.
You knock on Merrill's door and enter when invited to do so. "I hope you are only doing vocal exercises and not attempting to lean songs of power on your own."
"No. No nothing like that. Just vocal exercises." Merrill says, and while you suspect she is telling the truth in this case her clear nervousness indicates she has likely been trying songs of power at other times.
"I have warned you of the dangers of songs of power. I understand you are eager to learn but I have not yet taught them to you for a reason. Please trust that I will teach you when you are ready and do not experiment in your own time." You tell your student earnestly.
Merrill looks down and nods, looking chastised.
You return to the topic you originally came here for. "Now, I have something I would like you to do, if you are not busy right now."
Merrill gushes with enthusiasm. "You really think you can move your soul through the Veil? Oh Dirthamen, thank you for this opportunity."
"You are welcome, but please focus on the possibility of the Veil eating my soul." You tell her.
"Oh. Sorry, I was actually thanking Dirthamen. But I am grateful to you too, don't think I'm not. Ok, I'm serious now, focused on this and nothing else" Merrill hurries to reassure you.
You choose to let that pass without comment. You turn your attention to the dangerous task you are about to undertake.
"Á tirë ní, Varda" You whisper as you close your eyes.
The Beyond seems to react to your concern for what you are about to do, the recreation of Endataurëo that you arrive in is filled with long shadows and twisted subtly. It would make you uncomfortable if you were not so focused on what you are about to do. You wait for Merrill to join you.
"I'm going to be moving back and forth to try and keep an eye on everything that is going on. Best of luck Nelyafinwë." She says as she appears beside you.
You nod once, then you pour power into the Light of Valinor once more. With one last breath, you command the skin of the Veil to open, and step through.
At first you have no problems. It is slow going, like moving through mud, but hardly a challenge. The longer you are in the greater the pressure against you becomes. You set your will firmly against it and push on, through the mounting force against you. As you continue on, all sense of time falling away, you feel another thing. It is best described as heat, slowly mounting the longer you stay in the Veil.
You continue with grim determination, the strength that is yours by birth fighting back against the pressure of the Veil. The heat mounts, and you would be sweating if you had a body with which to do so. The temperature has passed the heat of summer and is starting to move towards that of an oven. The pressure you fight against has become so great that you can barely manage to take a single step forward. Then, suddenly it is gone. The heat remains, but the pressure is now at your back rushing you forward ever faster.
Your senses stretch through the inside of the Veil in a complex web of glowing lines. In the distance you see them tracing up a wall, invisible to your eyes, that marks your exit. You are moving to it with all speed when you hear the howl of a great wolf. You see from the corner of your eyes a black beast of enormous size, with markings on it fur glowing as green as its eyes. You think you can make it to the boundary before the wolf catches you, but should you?
You have not come all this way to be stopped or delayed by anything. You are not even sure you could stop yourself with the Veil helping you towards the exit. You ignore the wolf and at a whispered command the barrier opens one last time. You slip your soul through, closing it behind you. You now stand in the room where you had entered the Beyond. It is fascinating seeing yourself from the outside. Merrill is pacing back and forth nervously, looking out a window at the sundial in the courtyard. It seems she cannot see the unseen when not in the Beyond. You find this fascinating and would love to move around and get an idea for the Unseen as distinct from the beyond, but you are thoroughly sick of being hobbled. Entering your body is not dramatic or difficult, it was where your soul was always meant to be.
Your eyes open. Your thoughts race to their usual speeds, your limbs obey you with their usual alacrity. You begin to put your body through its paces. You start by running in place, then jumping in place. You test your mental acuity with simple memorisation puzzles. When both of those give good results, you draw your sword. In your hands the blade moves through every kind of position and stance, switching randomly and at great speed. Your impromptu drill ends with a flourish that, while unnecessary, looks impressive. Everything is as you remember, your skill and speed returned to their natural heights.
You are not sure when you start laughing. It might have begun during the sword drill or perhaps afterwards. What you do know is that you find yourself laughing louder and louder. It is an outpouring of joy that you could not contain even if you wanted to. You are tempted to dance or sing, but you do not think that will communicate what you want it to in this land. Still, it takes you some time to get your laughter under control.
When you are finally calm, you turn to Merrill, expecting to find her either amused or perhaps concerned. She is neither of those, she is staring at you like it is the first time you have met.
"It's done then?" She asks quietly.
"Yes. What is the matter, you seem upset?" You reply, concerned.
"It's nothing. It's just a surprise." Merrill tries to conceal her feelings with a smile. "I never realised how tall you were before."
She has not succeeded. "Merrill, I cannot and will not force you to tell me what is wrong. But I would know how I might help."
"Look, it's nothing. I'm fine." She tries again.
"You still have not gushed about the magical possibilities despite being excited earlier, it does not seem like nothing." You persist.
Merrill looks at you for a bit longer, then sighs. "I just, I never really. I mean I believed you when you said so but, you're really not a human, or an elf are you?"
You think you understand what is bothering her. You place your hand on her shoulder and smile at her.
"There is no need for worry. I am still myself, nothing I have told you or shown you before has changed." You say.
Merrill's false smile trembles the slowly shifts into a more melancholy expression. "Really?" She asks, her voice small.
You pause for a moment, then lightly tap the edge of your hand against her head. "Yes, my silly student. I am still Neylafinwë, eldest son of Fëanáro."
Merrill makes a sound halfway between a sniff and a laugh, then she says, "So, what's the Veil like."
When you have finished describing the Veil in as much detail as you can manage, she seems to be much more lively.
You have a disturbed, poorly trained mage in your home. If compassion did not move you, then pragmatism alone would have you seeking to aid him. The familiar itching of an oath in the back of your awareness is yet another reason to do so. That does not make doing so easier.
"What am I to do, o holy one?" The apostates looks up at you.
"That title is also inappropriate. I have a name, Nelyafinwë, you should use that." You say, exasperated.
You have been doing this for fifteen minutes now. The man seems to have difficulty fitting you into his worldview and is struggling to find a way of addressing you that matches both of your sensibilities.
"I cannot refer to you so casually. You were one of the Maker's chosen, and you are my teacher, wise one" Is the reply.
"Fine, I suppose I can live with that one." You say, more to end this conversation than anything else.
Merrill has been watching this conversation with no small amount of amusement. "Perhaps we should begin our lesson now, o wise one." She says, teasingly.
"Indeed, o foolish student." You reply, two can play her game.
Merrill glares at you but begins to explain. "So, you remember how we talked about spirits yesterday?"
"The maker's servants yes, I remember how Teacher revealed the Chantry's lies to me." He answers reverently.
That is not how you remember the conversation, but Merrill is answering for you. "That's not what he said… You know what, fine. Spirits are the Maker's servants, but some of them are actually demons. While spirits are usually fine to talk to it is very important that you don't talk to demons."
"Aren't demons spirits? Surely they are also servants of the Maker." The hermit replies.
"No they're not. Well, they are but it's not that simple. You see…" Merrill is starting go down a technical tangent that will likely only confuse him further.
"If I might interrupt." You speak up.
You had remained silent to allow the hermit, who has a tendency to overreact to your words, a chance to ask questions. At this point though you suspect that you can explain this better than Merrill is.
"A demon used to be a spirit. But it has fallen from grace, the ways this happens are both numerous and unimportant. A demon seeks to make all else as fallen as it is." You take much of the explanation from that of a Balrog, the reality of demons is much more complex.
"I see. So, demons are those who abandoned the Maker's light and try to convince others to do so. They must have caused the darkspawn." Your guest sounds like he is having a deep personal revelation.
Merrill takes over again. "We'll come back to darkspawn. Now you enter the Beyond, where spirits live, in your sleep. Here's some basic steps to keep yourself from getting in trouble."
As she runs the hermit through the basics of being a mage, you consider what you are going to do with the hermit in the long run. The Circle is simply not an option. Even if you had no misgivings about it, which you do, he will never trust an organisation run by the Chantry. You are also wary of simply letting him go where he wills, if only for the risk of one day discovering a cult dedicated to you.
You look at the man who is soaking up information like a sponge. You are tossing the various options around in your head but there is only one option. You have sworn you would help him. Help him you shall. You and Merrill are going to be picking up a new student. Merrill will teach him about the mechanics of magic, and you will teach him how to deal with the spirits of the Beyond. With that decision made you join in Merrill's lesson on keeping safe in the Beyond.
"A good rule of thumb is not to speak to anything. These creatures can attack you, but if you do not give them permission, they can do nothing to twist your will." You inform your students.
"Hold on. You can't be saying that every abomination agreed to become an abomination can you?" Merrill replies.
"Of course they did, if they had true faith in the Maker then they would have been able to possess the demons instead." The hermit exclaims.
You do not roll your eyes, you should never mock a student for their ignorance, but you are tempted to. "I am in fact saying that, Merrill. And no, you cannot possess demons… I just realised I never asked your name." You reply.
"Oh it's Xandar." The hermit says, though he is nearly drowned out by Merrill.
"So, it's a mage's own fault if they get possessed? They are entirely to blame for the fact that monsters want to puppet their corpses?" You have never seen Merrill this angry, not even when you opined on the origins of her species.
"It is not quite so simple as that. All creatures who have a fëa possess the Nárfurin, the Secret Fire. It is that which allows a being to choose, to act of their own will. This means they cannot be dominated or controlled by magic unless they agree to it. This agreement, however, does not need to be unforced, or properly informed. You can be tricked into agreeing or tortured until you do so. I make no claims on the fault of possession, merely observing that the universe as I understand it requires agreement for it to work." You explain.
"That's not true. Blood magic can control people." Merrill points out.
"Given all we know of fade energies it is entirely possible that this is not as simple as it appears, for example it may simply puppet their bodies, leaving the person unable to act on their will." You reply.
"I am very confused." Xandar interjects.
Suddenly aware of how the both of you have been distracted from your lesson you focus back on Xandar.
"The primary point of this is that you should never agree to anything a spirit says. At least not without checking it with one of us first." You tell Xandar.
"That's one of the rules I learnt when I was young." Merrill says thoughtfully.
"Let us not get distracted right now." You tell your first student.
You get through the safety rules with great efficiency. Merrill takes Xandar into the Beyond for a demonstration and a chance to interact with spirits in a supervised manner. While they are gone you decide what school or style of magic you want to teach him. A mage can learn all of them, but you want to focus on just one to begin with. Merrill has left a list, and the memories of the arcane warrior have given you another option.
You make a decision quickly, the last thing you want to do is hand an unstable man power specifically designed to harm and kill. Creation is the best option for something that will help him in the long run. That it will give you a dedicated magical healer is only further reason. You settle down to wait for the return of your students. And wait. It takes nearly an hour for them to return. When they do, they appear in the middle of the room, their clothes are singed, and Merrill is looking distressed.
"That took a while. I take it something went wrong. Do you need any help?" You say to Merrill.
"This idiotic Shemlen tried to convert a rage demon!" Merrill yells.
"All deserve a chance to return to the Maker's light." Xandar says piously.
"You just made it angrier. It nearly killed us!" Merrill shrieks.
"I had though that you and he were going to be engaging with safer spirits, not rage demons." You say, as calmly as possible.
Merrill shoots you a glare. "That was the plan. Then he spotted the rage demon, and once he knew what it was, he was off."
You nod to show your understanding. "Xandar, we told you not to speak with the spirits, you were only there to observe."
"Surely those who have fallen from the Maker's light deserve a chance at repentance, to return to their true path." Xandar replies.
"Spirits are not like humans. For one they live forever, they cannot be killed. Trying to convince them to change their minds is well beyond what you can be expected to manage." You tell him.
You have to explain the matter in further detail, but he does seem to get the idea eventually.
The rest of the afternoon is spent mostly by Merrill teaching Xandar the basics of the creation school of magic. You yourself listen with no small amount of interest, comparing it to what you already know about magic. It is mostly things you already know or could have worked out, but some of the nuances about how spells are cast are interesting. For example, the gestures they make are very much part of doing so rather than unnecessary flourishes. You and Merrill nearly get into another discussion on the nature of magic, but the two of you manage keep the focus where it needs to be.