I retreated as quickly as I could, desperately parrying another blow of the Templar's sword.

He kept his blade under control, not letting me shove it too far to the side, using his size and strength to continue advancing forward. Ducking under his follow-up slash, I weaved to my right, lashing out with a quick thrust at his side. He twisted, taking the impact on his armor, and lashed out with another cut that I only barely deflected.

Sweat ran down my neck as I swayed, my dueling sword flashing as I parried three more attacks before they could come close to my body. The Templar hardly seemed to notice my attempts to riposte, keeping himself angled to take the impacts on his armor rather than the vulnerable gaps.

It wasn't until he went for a high slash at my throat that I had a chance to turn it around; I got my sword up and pushed along the edge, spinning as I stepped into him. He grunted in surprise when my back hit his shoulder, nimble feet finishing my circle behind him with my thin sword at his throat.

"...not bad." He grinned through his red beard, lowering his training sword in surrender. "Very Orlesian, but not bad. You improve every day, my lady."

I let my own dulled blade fall, stabbing it into the ground and leaning on it. I needed to if I wanted to stay upright. "...water?"

A little boy promptly ran out from the shade of the Vhenadahl, holding up a water skin in both hands. I took it gratefully, and did my best not to guzzle it. It was warm, flavorless, but I was so thirsty I could have cared less. All that mattered was that it had been filtered, so my guts would hopefully be tolerant this time around.

Ser Thrak chuckled, waving off my offer of the liquid when I finished. "I had quite enough during our earlier break. A final pair of touches aren't enough to wear down a Templar."

"Brag much?" I grumbled, handing the water back to the kid. "Thank you, Theral."

The tiny kid flushed up to his pointed ears. It was utterly adorable, and made up for the earlier high-pitched arguments that had come from the children. Who got to play squire was apparently Serious Business. I'd had to intervene and make them draw lots before things progressed past hair pulling and calling names.

Today's assistant ducked his head shyly, scuttling back to the company of the other kids who promptly began teasing him.

Shaking my head in amusement, I inclined my head toward the stairs. Ser Thrask nodded once, and we casually walked over to stand apart from the children. I handed over the practice blade I'd been using, and he quickly secured it to his belt alongside his own.

"Thank you for coming by again." I told him. "I really needed the practice."

"It's not a problem, my lady. Thank you for accepting my offer of a spar instead of taking all of my silver last night." There was another chuckle, "You'd think I'd know better than to let Varric talk me into cards, but I suppose that's the Maker punishing my poor decisions when I drink."

I couldn't stop a snort. "It's certainly possible. What excuse did you give your superiors this time?"

Armor clanked when he shrugged. "I'm training local citizens so that they know how to spot and report Apostates. Making sure that the Elves know that the Templar order doesn't consider them any differently than we do the Humans in the city."

My flat look made him shrug again. "The Knight-Commander doesn't."

"That's because all she's equally prejudiced against everyone who isn't a Templar or a Dwarf." I noted. "And she'd turn on the dwarves in a heartbeat if someone told her that rune carving was magic."

Thrask opened his mouth as if he was going to protest... then slumped slightly, shaking his head. "Your words are harsh, but likely all too fair, lady Maeve."

"How many times do I have to ask you to drop the 'lady' bit?"

"At least once more, my lady."

I huffed, shaking my head. "Does your wife know you call other women that?"

"Ambra assures me that she finds my chivalry charming." He replied, "She sends her greetings, and thanks for your advice. We have all fallen ill far less often since we began filtering our water as you recommended."

"It was the least I could do since you haven't turned me in yet." It was my turn to shrug. "Just remember to change out everything in there every few months. Six at the most."

"Of course." He paused, then lowered his voice. "How progresses your magic?"

Exhaling slowly, I whispered my reply. "Same as always. I can light candles at a dozen paces, but anything more advanced gives me a migraine. The dream-catcher is still keeping the demons quiet at least."

Mostly. Longing was always lurking around, but he didn't need to know that.

"And you still haven't been able to replicate your work? The Mage Underground could use that sort of enchantment for their younger members."

"It's on my to do list, but the first attempt didn't go well." I replied, telling the full truth that time. "Did you find anything in the Gallows library that might help?"

Thrask shook his head. "Nothing that I understood. I know mages can ward their homes or sleeping areas, but the details are beyond my knowledge. Does it still work when you leave the city?"

"So far. I just have to keep the physical one on me."

"Good. Do not let it be taken from you." He said. "So far I have heard no reports of Apostates in the alienage. If that changes, I may not be able to warn you in time."

I blew out a breath, nodding once.

In truth I wasn't really worried about me. According to Thrask, the Templar's ability to notice magic being cast was a lot more limited than they would ever want to admit. Most of them could only pick up on it if it happened right in front of them, or relatively nearby. Only a tiny handful were sensitive enough to pick up things farther way. Even then, they needed a lot of lyrium, and could only pick up 'loud' spells.

My rather paltry collection of talents were too weak to be picked up by their anti-magic radar. Unless I walked right up to one of them and tried to set him on fire, I was pretty sure I was safe.

The problem was that I wasn't the only hidden mage in the alienage. Some had come and gone over time, but the real issue was Feynriel. I'd forgotten about the dreamer kid entirely until one of his dreams had woken me and half the alienage with his screaming.

I'd remembered him real quick after that little event.

As far as casting spells in reality went, the kid wasn't any better than I was. He could manage a couple of little things, and was smart enough to focus his efforts on keeping himself hidden.

In the Fade though...

I'd tried to make him a dream-catcher like mine. To help mute things if nothing else. It had helped him for all of an hour before he'd woken up from a nightmare to find every string snapped and the hoop on fire.

Of all the failures I'd considered, I hadn't expected that. The kid had admitted he hadn't even seen the net in the Fade when he'd dreamed. Considering I was sure I'd made it the same way I'd made mine, at least the core enchantments, I didn't have a clue as to why it hadn't worked. Either I'd screwed something up, a demon had blown it apart, or Feynriel's talent as a dreamer had broken it.

That or the kid had tinkered with it in the Fade and lied about what had gone wrong. I didn't think he had, he'd been too grateful for my attempt to help him, but I had to admit it was possible.

Either way, I needed more information. I wasn't about to ask Longing, so asking Thrask to poke around the Circle Library for information on Fade-Wards had been the only option I'd seen. Of course if he couldn't find anything...

...ugh. There was every chance Feynriel would draw attention before Hawke showed up to help him. If he did, there'd be Templar sweeps through the Aienage before I could blink, just like Thrask had warned.

"I understand." I said. "I won't blame you if there's a sweep through here. Just don't expect me to let them take me alive. Not with Meredith running the Circle."

His eyes closed for a long moment, a slow breath escaping him. "I understand. I hope it never comes to that, my lady. I wish I could stay longer, but I am due back for my patrol. Give my regards to Varric if you see him before I."

"I will. Tell your wife and daughter hello for me."

He gave me a final smile, bowing slightly before making his way up the stairs. I watched him vanish into Lowtown proper before sighing and making my way back to the Vhenadahl. That was more than enough heavy discussion for the day. I wanted to relax for a bit before I headed back down to the docks to pick out where the Qunari had stationed their sentries.

Seeing Thrask go, and me walking over, caused the children to groan in chorus. There was a good dozen of them, so they made themselves heard when they did.

"All done already?" One of the boys pouted.

"We were sparring all morning." I reached out and ruffled his hair before he could stop me, "I think you've all put your chores off for long enough. Go on, home with you."

There was plenty more whining, groaning, and general pouting. A few dutifully shuffled off, but most of them tried to lurk about the great tree. The little rebellion lasted until the alienage's elder came limping over, leaning on his battered cane.

Elder Leras looked as worn down as the buildings around us; his bare head covered in spots, his fingers so knotted they looked like the branches of the tree. Despite his grim looks, his smile was kind, and voice gentle when he spoke.

"Go, children. Help clean your homes. There will be time to play tonight."

Another chorus of groans came at his words, but they obeyed in the end. I watched them scatter before taking a few steps forward, sitting with my back to the base of the tree.

I let my head fall back against the wood, feeling my aching body go limp. "Here I was hoping to relax. Am I due for another lecture about inviting in a Human to the Alienage, elder?"

Leras chuckled, taking a few slow steps over to stand beside me. "Not today, da'len. He proved himself."

"Oh?"

"He came here while you were gone last week. Aided in training those who wished it. A good man, for a shem."

He had? Thrask hadn't mentioned that to me. "Nice of him. How'd we do?"

"As well as our people ever do against well trained shems." Words broke into a quiet hiss of pain, the old man slowly sinking down to sit as well. "But I appreciated that he made the attempt regardless. If he continues his efforts we may be able to create a proper guard for ourselves."

Which the Alienage would need sooner rather than later. Brennan hadn't been transferred off of her post just yet, but she'd warned me last night that it was coming. Apparently the Guard needed even more of a presence in Hightown to keep the nobles safe.

It wouldn't take long for the slavers and rapers to come crawling out of the woodwork once the Guards weren't at the gate anymore. Especially if that bastard of a Guard-Captain kept sending someone to lock the gates at night, trapping us in place for anyone to abuse.

I was about to say I'd ask Brennan to help out with training when he changed the subject, and not in a good way.

"But I did not come to speak of the shem, or the guard today. I hoped to speak about you."

I closed my eyes with a little groan, "That's my least favorite subject."

His voice turned wry. "I believe the entire community is aware of that. I have told them to respect your privacy as thanks for what you have done for us. This is the first time in my life we have enough bows and knives to equip all who wish to keep watch at night, and perhaps the first in Kirkwall's history that a Templar has lowered himself to train our people to defend themselves."

"It didn't cost me much." It hadn't actually cost me anything. I'd stumbled across two groups of mercenaries killing one another, stabbed the sole survivor in the back, and then looted all of their coin and weapons.

The coin I'd kept, but the weapons I'd given away.

And as far as Thrask went, well, I hadn't had to do much there. He'd already been Varric's main contact in the Templars. Talking over drinks and cards at the Hanged Man had led to us discussing how the plight of the city elves resembled the fate of the Mages. Once he'd made that connection there hadn't been any question of him helping us out where he could.

Mostly that had meant training with me, and giving quiet advice to others, but apparently he'd stepped it up lately.

Good on him. He was a better person than I was.

He wanted to help.

I just wanted to stay safe until I could strike a deal with Mythal and go home.

"I'm sure." His chuckle made me think he knew how exactly I'd gotten the weapons. "And your... water filters have been helping greatly, though many still fear them since you seem to only drink wine unless you are truly desperate."

"...can't stand water." I muttered. "I like things with flavor. I'll drink from them if it'll convince people they aren't magic or something."

"That would reassure many." The old man kept chuckling. "Of course there is more. Many continue to complain about your fascination with cats."

"Cats carry far fewer diseases than rats or mice." I said for the fiftieth time. "Plus they're cute. We could do with a lot more of them."

"That would be easier to believe as well, if you told us just how you know that rats are truly what carries the plagues you claim."

...ugh. Here we went again.

No one had asked any questions when I'd shown up and claimed an apartment for myself. I'd been just another half-starved elf desperate for the protection offered by a community.

The questions had come after I'd convinced Varric I was a good observer. That I was a quiet, reliable agent who could get him the information he wanted in a timely fashion. The fact that I'd demanded proper payment had made him laugh, then laugh again when I'd gone above and beyond on my first job to prove that I was worth it.

He'd started interrogating me about my past after that.

The Elder had waited until he'd been told I'd had my door replaced, putting in one with an actual lock. When I'd carried scrap wood and nails in, hammering away to make my little wine cabinet. When he realized I had money, that I was literate, that I didn't act like a normal Elven servant.

I'd bought myself some peace and quiet by teaching them out to make basic charcoal filters to purify their water, by bringing in the weapons for the night watch.

I'd hoped I'd bought that silence in perpetuity... but apparently I'd just bought myself a couple of months.

I was about to reply when he went on without waiting. "The Templar spoke of the way you fight. He told me that it is the way Orlesian nobles duel one another over matters of honor. When I asked how an Elven woman would have learned such a style, he claimed he could think of only one way."

I kept my eyes closed, breathing shallowly through my nose.

"You know how to keep water clean, how to manage disease. You fight in a way that is meant for showmanship." He went on calmly, as if we were discussing the weather. "You walk with your head up, not bowed. You look shems in the eye without fear, without deference. You snap at them rather than stay silent."

And that had gotten me in trouble more than once. My first beating had come for that very reason, on my second day in Thedas. I'd stumbled into an inn, desperate for shelter, and lasted less than an hour before I'd said the wrong thing to the wrong Human. It had only been later that I realized how lucky I'd been to only be pummeled and tossed out into the night.

"The shem believes you were a Tevinter slave. The chatelaine of a Magister's household, or perhaps a... gladator." Leras chortled while I bit my tongue, stopping myself from correcting his pronunciation. "A good man, for a shem, but a fool. You were no slave. You have no scars, no marks. An ex-slave would know when to bow her head, when to be silent."

"Yup." I agreed.

"Where are you from, Maeve?"

I exhaled through my teeth. "North."

He made a grumbling sound. "That is not good enough, da'len. Other elders have come to believe that you are from a hidden realm of our people. One free from shem tyranny. They want to confront you, force you to tell them where it is."

That made me groan in frustration. God save me from medieval superstition, and old men who had nothing better to do but gossip. "Seriously?"

"Is it so unbelievable?" He asked. "We have former Dalish among us, but even they are not like you. You do not curse by the Creators, nor speak a word of the old tongue."

...ugh.

Well, time for the lie I'd been practicing then. Varric hadn't bought it, but that was Varric. I hadn't really expected him to. He'd treated it like the story it was, spinning it in his own ways for his own amusement when people asked about it when we were drinking.

"North." I repeated, "Is my best guess."

The Elder was silent for a long moment, then asked, "Your best guess? You do not know where you are from?"

I shrugged, not opening my eyes. It made it easier to not look shifty when I answered by not answering. "I don't know how I got this far south, or how to get home. Magic, obviously, but I can't figure out the details. Maybe some Magister was playing with something he shouldn't have, maybe a demon got bored. All I know is that I went to sleep one night and woke up a stone's throw from Tevinter. I did know enough to get as far away from there as I could."

It had the benefit of not being entirely a lie. I was from the northern hemisphere, I assumed magic had brought me here, and I'd woken up way too close to Tevinter instead of in my apartment's bed.

I just left out the different planet part. And the swap from Human to Elf. And turning into a mage.

You know. Minor details.

"...I see." He murmured, not giving away if he believed me or not. "And you know you are from the north?"

"I'm used to north being colder, not warmer. Seems obvious."

"I see. And the coin you seek to earn. You want to sail north, don't you? To search for your homeland?"

Another shrug and silence was my response.

Honestly, if I was stuck in Thedas for the rest of my life, sailing the hell away from the chaos wasn't the worst idea. I had no idea what lay to the North or East, but... finding out could be fun. Better than dealing with Solas and Corypheus, that was for sure.

It wasn't like the Inquisitor would need my help after all, and I had no idea what came after that. Just that it involved going up against a literal living god. Well, a mage close enough to masquerade as one. Same thing really.

Either way, that wasn't anything I wanted any part of.

"Would you be willing to take others with you on such a search?" He asked. "A new homeland for our people, safe from the Human kingdoms, is something every Elf has dreamed of since the Dales fell."

"I wouldn't mind some company." I stretched my arms out with a quiet groan, keeping my eyes shut for now. That way he wouldn't see my guilt over the fact that, if everything went to plan, I'd simply vanish one day and no one here would know what happened.

"Is the interrogation done for the day?" I asked.

The old man let out a wheezy chuckle. "I have many more questions, but I will give you space for now, da'len. I will tell the others to leave you be, if you do but one thing more for me today."

"...which is?" I asked cautiously.

"Help an old man to stand? We have a new arrival, and I must greet her appropriately."

My nose flexed as I huffed, eyes opening. "Sure, no... prob..."

My heart felt like it stopped beating, then plunged down into my stomach in horrified despair.

The new arrival was standing nervously at the base of the stairs, looking around while shifting her weight back and forth. She had a heavy pack digging into her shoulders, a worn staff in one hand. Her clothes were unmistakably Dalish, matching the tattoos covering her face.

"Um, excuse me?" Her lilting accent carried across the courtyard, "Ah. Am I in the right place? I was told that Elves live here, do I just... pick a place?"

I stared in horror at Merrill of Clan Sabrae, someone who wasn't supposed to be here for months yet.

Something had clearly gone wrong.

And I had no idea what.