Chapter Four: Feint

Neria and Carver walked together in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but Neria still sensed tension. In an effort to ease it she decided to try speaking with him.

"You're Bethany's brother—"

"Twin, actually," he bit.

That evoked memories Neria couldn't let herself think about. She shoved them away, silencing the cries she heard. "Why haven't you come to visit her? I've been here a few weeks and—"

"What's it to you?"

Neria looked at him. His jaw was clenched. "Forgive me. I suppose it may be a personal matter."

"It is."

Neria laced her fingers behind her. She could guess the issue. She'd dealt with it herself. Despite knowing she couldn't revisit those memories, despite the fact she'd never spoken of them to anyone, she sensed a kindredness between them. "For what it's worth, I know what it is to be in the shadow of a sibling."

He looked at her with those words, a dark brow arching. "I'm in the shadow of two."

"That would be difficult."

"That's an understatement." Neria chuckled, despite Carver's serious nature. He looked at her curiously. "You seem rather…cheery for just being reprimanded by the knight-captain."

She waved a hand dismissively. "It's a show of power. He has to establish authority and boundaries. We knew each other before. He wants me to understand it has no baring here. He's all bark and no bite."

Carver's brow furrowed. "I've never known the knight-captain to be pretentious."

Neria shook her head. "No, Cullen is honest. That much is true. It's his way of telling me things are different here. That he will fulfill his duty. But I would have to press him hard to truly earn a reprimand. Confined to quarters for an evening? That's a warning. One I will heed, but a warning nonetheless."

"The knight-captain is ruthless." At these words, Carver noticed the elven girl's slender fingers trace two deep scars at her jaw, her full lips pulling in a frown.

"Our definition of ruthless may not be the same," she murmured.

As they approached Neria's quarters, she noticed the door was ajar and heard voices within. Her eyes flicked to Carver noticing his jaw was clenched again. He stayed in the hall as Neria entered, finding Marian, Bethany and Ella chatting.
Bethany was Ella's mentor, Ella still an apprentice. Unlike Kinloch Hold, not all apprentices roomed together. Once assigned a mentor, they shared quarters until the apprentice underwent the Harrowing. If the apprentice was successful, they were moved and eventually assigned their own apprentice to mentor.
Ella was a pretty girl: brown bobbed hair, large brown eyes, tanned skin. Bethany had informed Neria that Ella had come to the Circle under difficult circumstances. She'd discovered her magic late, her and her mother trying to get her out of Kirkwall through what Bethany had called the "Mage Underground" after the rumors circulating about the treatment of mages within the Gallows reached them. Cullen had led the group responsible for tracking down the cell Ella had been hiding with—separating her from her mother.
Since Bethany's arrival, successful Harrowing and subsequent mentoring of Ella, the girl had been doing better. Unlike Carver, it seemed Bethany enjoyed her sister's visits as they were all laughing. They quieted as Neria entered.

Marian's mouth tipped in a smirk as she stood and walked up to Neria. Leaning towards her, she pressed the door closed. Bearing her weight on the arm against the door, her other hand a fist on her hip, she trapped Neria there.

"So, it seems you're the only thing to ever get under our beloved knight-captain's armor," she murmured suggestively.

"We're friends, not lovers."

Hawke shrugged. "Semantics." Neria narrowed her eyes in suspicion, Marian's smirk turned feline. "Don't fret, I have no inclination to your templar. No matter how handsome he is."

Bethany and Ella giggled behind Marian. "He is easy on the eyes," Ella sighed.

"But not so much on the ears," Bethany scowled. "What was it he said? Mages cannot be treated like people? That we are weapons?"

Marian continued studying Neria. "They cannot be our friends either." She leaned closer to Neria. "So tell me, why did he befriend you?"

Neria swallowed. "He was…different before he came here."

"Different how?"

Neria shifted uncomfortably, this woman's closeness was an invasion of her personal space. "Most Templars are coldly civil. Not unwilling to talk, but always keeping a distance. Cullen was…cordial. Openly spoke with the mages in his charge, treated us like people instead of threats. After my Harrowing, we talked more; got to know each other and became friends. He believed in the Order, but did not wholly believe the Order."

"What changed?"

Neria's face darkened. "Uldred."

"He mentioned that name before."

Neria met Hawke's blue eyes. "He was a Senior Enchanter at the tower. He fought at Ostagar. When he returned…he tried to convince the tower to support Loghain and then push for independence for the Circle. When they—when Irving, the First Enchanter, refused—he tried to take the Circle by force. He used blood magic. He'd been training hand-picked acolytes in secret. Together, they rose up and overthrew the mages and templars there. Demons came. Abominations. All of Cullen's friends—all the templars he'd been stationed there with, had trained with—died." Neria looked away. "I was with the mages Uldred tortured. I know what he was capable of." She met Hawke's eyes again. "What he did to us, those he wanted to have follow him, was horror enough. I cannot imagine what he and the others unleashed upon the templars they despised."

"It doesn't excuse how he talks of mages nor his treatment of them."

Neria furrowed her brows. "Treatment?"

"With contempt, disdain and distrust. Hunting down cells of apostates with zeal. Killing those who resist, bringing those who don't here."

Neria's lips twitched. "You consider that abhorrent? In the aftermath of what happened? Can you blame him?"

Marian seemed surprised by this response. "But you are a mage. Surely, you—"

"I have no idealistic notions of what I am. I can produce a firestorm with little more than my will, burn the whole of this place to the ground should I so choose. I could freeze you solid with a touch. Rain lightning down from the heavens. Shift the very face of the earth. Drain the lifeforce from you where I feel it humming along your bones. Render you unconscious. Allow a demon to possess me and raze this whole city to the ground. And blood magic? I could control your very will or tear open the Veil itself." Neria eyes blazed with magic in emphasis, the temperature of the room plummeting, a layer of frost coating everything. "I am a monster. I just choose to keep the beast chained and ignore the whispers of the demons that haunt me." Bethany and Ella's faces saddened.

Hawke's lips pulled into a frown. There was more to this than the elven girl was letting on. "I'm calling your bluff."

Neria blinked. "What?"

"You could be a monster. That doesn't make you one. And don't let him tell you any different."

Marian watched as the girl's wrath dissipated, but in its place came an inexplicable sadness. Her shoulders drooped, her eyes closed, her brow furrowed before she let out a deep sigh. "He told me the opposite. Before…everything. And Maker forgive me, but…for a moment," she smiled then, a sad thing, "I believed him. Believed the lie that every mage tells themselves: magic can be made safe." She looked to the ceiling. "That beings who are capable of warping reality itself by manipulating mana into magic should not be feared." She let out a bitter laugh. "And believing that cost us both dearly."

"There is no shame in being a mage."

Neria's brilliant eyes snapped back to Marian. "I am not ashamed. The Maker created me as I am—gave me these gifts—for a reason. It is my job to use them with diligence and humility. Not foolishly or arrogantly." Marian couldn't deny the fire in the elf's eyes stirred something in her. "What he said, while not wholly right, it is not wholly wrong either. We could be monsters. What he must remember is that we did not choose to be born with magic but we can choose how we wield it."

Marian had to fight a smirk—it was no wonder the knight-captain fell for her. She was captivating because of her conviction. If Marian could steer that conviction to the Underground…this girl would be a powerful ally.
But she'd have to be willing to break her current convictions to become one. To realize that the Gallows—that Kirkwall—was not the same as where she'd come from. That here mages needed to break the rules and fight back, but more pressing: escape.
But she wasn't ready. Not yet. And Marian knew if she pressed the elven girl too hard, too fast she'd lose her.

"I admire your conviction," Hawke complimented as she straightened. "But you may find it used against you here. Just be careful."

"It's time for you to leave, Marian," Carver's voice spoke as he entered the room. "Surana is to be confined to quarters without visitors beyond her roommates."

Marian ignored the pang that came at the anger coloring her little brother's face. It seemed to have only worsened since he'd joined the Order. He refused to speak to her or Bethany about anything. She worried for him, knowing what she did of the templars here. Of Meredith. Of lyrium. But he'd been determined to make his own way, to be his own man.
Marian couldn't blame him, but Maker did she hate every minute of it. She knew, deep within, that what was brewing in the city would come to a head. And when it did, she may have to stand between her brother and the innocents that needed protection. So, for now, she would avoid confrontation.

"Of course," Marian gave a nod as she stood. "I need to go, anyway." She made her way to the door, looking to those within. "Look after yourselves."

…

"Sweet Andraste!" The voice of Solana Amell laughed incredulously. "Neria Surana? Here? In the Gallows with that zealous idiot? The Maker does have a sense of humor."

"Neria?" Anders's quiet voice questioned.

"Elven. Don't know much about her past, but she was Jowan and I's best friend."

"I remember," Anders replied, leaning on his staff, blond hair falling into his face as it was free of its usual updo. "She was…friendly with the templars."

Solana snorted. "More than that. She was—is—in love with one."

"You're telling me that the Dog Lord, ol'stick in the mud, head of the so-called Death Squad himself, that the bloody knight-captain had feelings for a mage?" Raleigh Samson scoffed. "Either it's a lie or the rabbit made for some fine rutting."

"Sam," Solana snapped, coffee brown eyes flashing, "Don't talk about her that way."

"What?" He spread his hands out, his own brown eyes feigning innocence. "Why else would such a devout knight fall for a mage?"

Solana sighed and shook her head, her buttery blonde tresses swaying with the movement. "Cullen is many things, but I can say, with certainty, he never crossed that line with her."

"Wonder if he'll resist temptation twice," Samson mused.

"You certainly didn't," Solana purred at him.

Samson chuckled as he circled his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her neck. Its true. He'd been living on the streets since being discharged from the Order. Half-mad from the lyrium withdrawal, using what little coin he had to buy smuggled lyrium. He hadn't cared about anything else. Not food, not water, not sleep or bathing.
Hawke had found him, word getting to her that he was helping mages escape the city. The woman seemed to think he'd been doing it for some noble purpose, out of regret. In truth, Samson had just wanted coin for lyrium and to make Meredith's life difficult. But then he'd met Solana, his Fireheart, and a part of him wanted to live up to this man they'd all assumed he was; but not even Solana, in all her healing magic and carnal satisfaction could ease the burning in his gut. So for now, he took what love she'd give and snuck what lyrium he could get.
"Ain't no use denying it. 'Sides, I'm an ex-templar. And without me, you mages would get yourselves killed trying to break into the Gallows."

Marian studied the greasy ex-templar. Without Samson feeding them information on the Gallows, they'd have had no hope of seeing their plan through. A raid. A big one. Trying to get as many mages out of there as possible and out of Kirkwall as fast as possible. They were getting everything lined up: accommodations, food, clothes, money. It was taking longer than Hawke or her cousin, Solana, wanted, but it had to be perfect.
Because Samson assured Marian of one thing: not to underestimate Meredith. Samson had roomed with Cullen when the boy had first transferred to Kirkwall. He'd watched firsthand as the boy went from jumpy and fearful to hardened and obedient. According to Samson, Meredith had her knight-captain hook, line and sinker. He didn't think Cullen would go so far as to truly hurt the mages under his watch in the Circle, but couldn't vouch for what he'd do on Meredith's order. Or what Meredith kept from him.
And Samson knew this raid would cause backlash the likes of which they'd never seen. He tried to warn them that if they thought things were bad now, it would pale in comparison to how it'd be after for those mages they couldn't get out, but the warnings fell on deaf ears. And for Samson all that mattered was raising hell for Meredith in retaliation for her dishonorably discharging him from the Order.

"Did he fall for her or have malicious intentions?" Anders questioned, his voice filling with some anger, eyes flashing at Samson. "I've heard what goes on between some templars and their charges. Some cannot say no."

Samson met Anders glare and shrugged. "Can't put a bunch of men and women together inside four walls they never leave and not expect things to happen."

"Things to happen?"

Samson's mouth pulled in a frown. "Look. Just like anything and anywhere there are bad people. But they don't define the whole of the Order. Just like bad mages shouldn't define the whole of magickers, right? Ain't that what you're all on about?"

"It's different."

Samson huffed a laugh, a smirk on his mouth. "No it ain't, mage. You just want it to be."

Anders glared, magic flaring in his eyes. "Why do you still defend them? After what they did to you?"

Samson shook his head, greasy hair swaying. "Not them. Meredith. Before her, I'd a gotten a slap on the wrist. With her? She wants ironclad rule and submission. It doesn't matter how a templar conducts themselves so long as they listen to her. So long as they swear fealty to her. I wouldn't give it. She looked for an excuse to get me out and found one." His face darkened. "She'll pay. For what she did to me and to the boy. He doesn't deserve the brand. And the templars? They deserve better than Meredith."

…

With a cry that only the walls of his quarters heard, Cullen jerked out of bed. Chest heaving, the scratchy linen of his Order-issued tunic clinging to his sweat-drenched skin, he tore out of his covers and stripped to the linen shorts that were his smalls. His entire body trembled, hair standing on end as he felt the ghost of the demon's touch, the blood of his friends splattered upon him, the filth caked upon him from the weeks spent in that cage. That cage he questioned if he'd really escaped from—renewed now that Neria was here.
His mind flashed with the vivid images of his dream and Cullen ran to his privy and vomited into his slops bucket. His stomach emptying of all its contents, he shaky and sweaty and afraid, Cullen went to his chest of drawers. Opening the uppermost drawer, he stared at the little thing that lay inside. Hesitantly, he removed his lyrium kit. As he'd done nearly innumerable times before, he went through the steps of preparing a philter.
Finished, he swirled the little bottle watching the blue liquid glow faintly before unscrewing the lid and bringing it to his lips. He could never quite articulate the feeling of lyrium as it entered his body, but what was most important to him was the calming of his fear. The shaking stopped, the nausea subsided and his mind cleared of the vivid dreams.
Each night it seemed the denizens of the Fade took it upon themselves to reenact the worst weeks of his life again and again and again. Only lyrium suppressed their happening—or at the very least his recollection of it. When he came due for his next philter, the nightmares returned in full force, just as haunting as those real moments had been.
Cullen scrubbed his skin before rinsing in the ice cold water of his washtub. Try as he might, he could never fully rid himself of the feel of the blood and filth from those horrible days no matter how many times he bathed. That done, he strode to his window, opening it wide and inhaling the briny air deeply.
Your name is Cullen Stanton Rutherford. You are a knight-captain of the Templar Order. You survived Kinloch Hold. You were stationed at the chantry in Greenfell. Returned to Kinloch. And then were transferred to Kirkwall. Neria Surana cannot be trusted. No mage can be trusted. You are a templar and your duty is to be a bulwark against mages and magic. Cullen repeated this mantra in his head again and again. Normally, it recentered him, but this night looking out at the dark waters of the harbor, knowing Neria was near, it did little.
Giving up, he grabbed fresh clothes from his chest of drawers and pulled them on, ignoring the scars along his skin from the maleficars' blades. He put on his armor as well, needing the familiar weight of it to help ground him in reality. But tonight, he needed more than lyrium and armor. Tonight he needed to pray. He made his way through the Gallows to the small chapel, but halted at the threshold when he heard a familiar voice inside.

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost," Neria quoted.

Cullen knew he should turn and leave, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Despite knowing his duty, something drew him to her—just as it had before. And it both angered and thrilled him.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, his voice harsher than he'd intended.

Neria startled from where she'd been knelt before Andraste in prayer. He watched as she stood. Maker she's so beautiful, he thought. Her inky curls were loose, jade eyes sparkling despite the evidence that she had been crying, her cheeks and full lips rosy. She clasped her delicate hands together and lowered her head.

"My mind was troubled," she admitted, still not looking at him, "I came to pray. It is before the midnight curfew. Have I done something wrong, Knight-Captain? "

Cullen clenched his jaw. Despite the use of his title, there was no bite in her words and it sounded wrong in his ears coming from her lips. He hesitated answering her, at war within himself again. He wanted to rebuke her and send her away, but he also wanted to find an excuse to speak with her. Before he'd fully made up his mind, he asked, "Troubled how?"

"I was praying for a friend," she murmured, her voice kind and even a little teasing.

He knew she meant himself. He knew it should irritate him, yet something in the way she said it gentled him. "No, you have done nothing wrong." She raised her head at his words as they had come out soft. Cullen cleared his throat and looked away from her piercing stare. "Do you wish to be alone?"

"You're not going to run away from me?"

Despite himself, Cullen's lips twitched. The words held a double meaning and there was no denying the teasing in them this time. She meant both his avoidance of her now and when he'd literally run from her at Kinloch Hold. She'd plucked up the courage to brush a chaste kiss to his cheek in response to his unintentionally making his feelings for her plain after she'd passed her Harrowing. He'd been a foolish boy in puppy love. Yet, it brought back happier times when the world had seemed less complicated and far more bright. "I have aged a few years, you know."

Neria chuckled before looking over him. "You have. We both have." Her gaiety died as a thought crossed her mind. "I can leave, if you'd prefer."

Cullen met her eyes then. "It is…alright."

Neria nodded after a moment before going to one of the pews, sitting and resuming her prayers though they were now silent. Cullen sat in a separate pew and bowed his own head praying the Benedictions. After some time passed, he heard the groaning of wood and opened his eyes to find Neria coming to sit beside him.
She kept a respectful space between them, but it didn't stop Cullen's heart from beating faster. She worried on her plump lip, her dark brow knitted, before letting out a breath and looking at him. Cullen prepared for her to speak of things they couldn't speak of but was taken completely off guard by what came out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He could tell she did not mean some general apology but was truly asking for his forgiveness for some wrong she perceived she'd committed against him. "For?"

"For adding more weight to your shoulders."

Cullen blinked. It was an odd admonition. No one ever cared how they used him. Not even Cullen himself. He was a tool, a pawn, a weapon to be used as others saw fit. It's what he's been trained to do. To be. A soldier to take and carry out orders. Duty before humanity. The last thought had him looking away from her and scowling.

Instead of backing down, Neria leaned closer. "Why won't you talk to me?"

Cullen's hair stood on end. The question was too similar to the ones they'd asked to tempt him. And it made him question if any of this was real. The thought had his hands twitching before memories of the bloodied apprentices he'd beaten with his fists danced before him.
No matter the apprentices' opinions, words or support of Uldred, he knew now there had been no excuse for his actions. Yet the fear was as palpable now as it had been in that moment. He stood abruptly then.
"I've duties."

Hurt was plain on her face before she lowered it and nodded. "Of course."

Cullen made to leave, but he hesitated at the end of the pew. "Whatever it is you hoped for in coming here concerning me…you must let it go."

"And if I refuse?"

He met her eyes. "Then you are a fool." He continued to look at her, beautiful in the candlelight of those lit wicks resembling prayers.

"Then color me a fool, Knight-Captain."

The following morning, Cullen left the tower to follow-up on some leads, but mostly to put distance between himself and Neria.

…

"Magic exists to serve man, but never to rule over him," Neria quoted from the Chant.

Her mind wandered to that night in the chapel, the last exchange between Cullen and herself before he'd disappeared again. Carver had told her he was in the city investigating and did not know when he'd be back. She'd found herself missing Kinloch Hold again.
Irving had written her, as he'd promised, telling her of all that had been happening within the tower since she'd left. He'd expressed missing her company and her help as his aide. She'd reminisced about her time spent as his aide—poring over old records, cataloging the library, helping him map out the mages' curriculum, speaking with Greagoir on his behalf when he was too weak to do so.
She'd been slated to become the next First Enchanter when Irving decided to retire, but Neria had left to pursue her own path. While she knew the Maker had guided her here, she sometimes wondered what life would be like if she had stayed in Ferelden.

She bit back a sigh before focusing on the children before her. "Can any of you tell me what this means?"

They were sat outside in one of the Gallows's courtyards. A pathetic thing, really, as it was all sandstone with only a few blades of the strongest grass desperate enough to try reaching for the sun stretching out between the cracks. She, Bethany and Ella sat with the children, Neria leading the lesson on the Chant. Bethany and Ella had elected her to teach it as she was the most devout of them all. Summer was drawing to a close, the briny air less balmy. They'd elected to hold their lesson outside to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine.
The children had played for a time before Neria had called them to sit and listen to the Canticle of Transfigurations. They'd listened with curiosity and wonder as Neria sang. Though Neria herself did not know, the children and other women had thoroughly enjoyed her melodic voice, almost as if there were a bit of magic in it. The children looked at her, wide-eyed with wonder. One raised his hand, a few teeth missing when he spoke.

"It means we're to use our magic to help people, not hurt them."

"Very good," Neria smiled.

"Aye, but it is more than that little mage," a familiar voice sounded. The words cordial, but something dark lurked beneath them. Neria watched the other women's smiles falter, noticed as their eyes shone with a flicker of fear as they watched a few templars enter the courtyard, led by Ser Alrik. His eyes looked over them all. "Your magic is a curse. A sin. An affront to the Maker. One for which you must be watched over and, if possible, rescued from."

"Rescued from?" The boy questioned.

"Indeed," Alrik inclined his head, "For it is far too heavy a burden for you to carry."

"But how are we rescued from it, ser?"

Alrik smiled and Neria sensed it was almost a veiled threat. "A lesson for another day as I'm afraid outside time must be requested and approved. I do not recall receiving such a request. Who is responsible?"

Neria knew it was foolish, but the fear that flickered over the other women's faces, the odd sensation that rippled in her gut as she studied the templars—all of it told her she had to do something. So before the others could speak, she slowly stood and brushed the dirt from her robes before brushing her hands clean.
"I did."

Alrik's cool mask twitched before he met Neria's gaze. "Did I not warn you to get better acquainted with The Gallows, little rabbit?"

"I apologize, ser. I'm afraid I overlooked the need for permission to bring the children to a walled courtyard."

"That you did," he nodded, the hair of his goatee pulling, "And in so doing you've earned yourself another punishment. Two instances in less than a month. It is not the sort of reputation you want to have here."

"No, ser, but given that both instances were mistakes and not intentional, I'd certainly hope any reasonable knight would not label me as troublesome."

"Then I would advise against continued actions that warrant such a moniker." Alrik nodded his head to a couple of the templars behind him. They stepped forward and seized Neria by her upper arms. Despite the warning in her gut, she did not fight. "I will speak with you in my office. I suggest this lesson be moved indoors to one of the classrooms."

"Where are you taking her?" Bethany questioned.

"Never you mind," Alrik dismissed.

They led her through the halls of the fortress. Neria tried to remember the way, but got lost in her mind. Alrik opened a door and stepped inside dismissing the other templars.

One bent down and whispered in Neria's ear, "You've earned our attention, robe. We'll be watching."

Within the room was an office. A desk, papers, bookcases, chairs, wells of ink, quills and paper. Cleaning and sorting these things was a young woman. An apprentice mage by her robe's coloring. She had stopped her work at the door opening. Her eyes went to Neria, filling with some intense emotion Neria couldn't place.

"That will be all, Helena," Alrik dismissed.

The woman, Helena, lowered her head and left the room after a murmured, "Yes, ser."

Something needled Neria's gut. The same instinct she got when within the Fade and dealing with its darker denizens. It told her to tread very carefully.

"I do not believe I properly introduced myself the other day," Alrik began as he sat in a chair behind a desk and gestured for her to sit opposite him. "I am Knight-Lieutenant Otto Alrik."

"Ser," she nodded.

His blue eyes flicked over her, his face hard to read behind the silver hair of his goatee. "Do you know what the role of a Knight-Lieutenant is?"

"No, ser."

"Truly? Did you not have such a templar at your old tower?"

"I'm sure that we did, ser, but Kinloch Hold was a much smaller Circle in comparison to here. If we did, I did not personally interact with the said knight."

"I see," he stated before steeling his fingers, "Well, here—as with any Circle or posting that requires such a knight—a knight-lieutenant is third in rank. Meaning, after the knight-commander and the knight-captain, I am in charge. I command the knights that remain in the tower when my superiors are called away. I see over the mages in their stead. In truth, many would say that I am far more acquainted with those within the tower—both templar and mage—than my superiors, as I am most often left in charge of you all." He paused here as if waiting for Neria to respond.

"I would understand the need for such a rank here," Neria stated, "but at Kinloch Hold, Knight-Commander Greagoir rarely left. He preferred to see over the tower's occupants himself and put the knights under him to work seeing to any duties outside the tower's walls."

"I suppose that would limit your experience with the other ranks of the Order and their duties then," Alrik mused, "but do you understand why I am telling you this, Surana?" Neria had an inkling and it was nothing good, but instead of answering she feigned ignorance. "I tell you this for your own benefit. While the knight-commander has the final say in the goings-on of the tower and the knight-captain does her bidding—which admittedly sometimes includes mediating between she and I—I am the one mantled with the responsibility of the tower's occupants. It is often my word that sways the knight-commander."

And there it was—the threat. Still veiled behind a mask of mock concern, but there nonetheless. He was telling her that he held her fate in his hands. She didn't doubt it. Bethany had told her that Alrik was often left in charge of the tower when Cullen was away. She'd also hinted at the difference in the conduct of the templars when Alrik was in charge to when Cullen was within the fortress. It seemed Meredith was often content to leave the tower to the two men and deal with larger matters beyond the Circle herself.
Neria knew there was something much deeper and much darker to this conversation than was immediately obvious. That dread that had first filled her upon coming to The Gallows filled her once more. Something gnawed at her subconscious, whispering too quiet for her to hear, always lying in the peripheral of her vision.
Naively, she'd lulled herself into distraction within her first few months, but now she knew she couldn't stay in blissful ignorance. She needed to find answers. As she looked into Alrik's cold blue eyes, she knew that to do so would put her life in danger; but she also knew that whatever answers waited on the other side may be the key to reaching Cullen. But, moreover, to fixing The Gallows.
She knew what was possible for the Circle, had lived it at Kinloch. The fear the mages suffered here was wrong. The way the Circle operated here was wrong. Neria knew in that moment that this was going to become bigger than just Cullen. Swallowing down her fear, she knew she had to find a way to help not only Cullen, but the mages and all the decent templars here.

Letting out a breath, she kept Alrik's gaze. "Then I best make sure you put in a good word for me."

Something dark flickered in his gaze before disappearing just as quickly. Alrik chuckled, but there was no humor in it. It was a sound full of malice. "That you should."

A few moments passed, they simply staring each other down, before Neria asked, "Am I free to go?"

Alrik began to say something and then seemed to change his mind, but his response still held the threat he'd wanted to voice. "For now."

Neria left, keeping her head high, despite the shaking in her legs. Alrik's predatory gaze followed her far beyond his office.

…

"And what did you glean of the conversation, Cullen?" Meredith asked her knight-captain.

His brown eyes flicked to her. They were bloodshot and his face drawn. She would need to increase his lyrium ration just a little more. "Marian knows more than she lets on. She is either protecting someone or she is directly involved. I found nothing in my recent investigations either. Kirkwall has lost faith in her templars."

Meredith turned her back to him, arms cross behind her as she stared out across the harbor to the city proper. "It is because our vigilance has lulled them into a sense of security. They've forgotten the dangers of magic. A peace I would have them feel, but a precarious place as if on the edge of a blade. We aim for peace, but never wish for the people to forget what we protect them from. For as soon as they do, disaster follows." Meredith heard the roars of the abomination that had been her sister as she tore apart the people that were their neighbors. Her back straightened with resolve. "And you do not think you can persuade Hawke to divulge anything?"

Cullen shook his head. "I do not."

Meredith nodded. "I feared that may be the case."

"What would you have me do?"

Meredith stood for a moment, thinking. This was going to take subterfuge and Cullen would balk at it. Meredith appreciated the boy's honesty and integrity—when is served her—as it made him perfect for his role. The honest face of the Order as he patrolled the city, she knowing she could trust that he was acting in obedience and to some degree his conduct even garnered the mages' tolerance as well as respect from his subordinates.
Where it annoyed Meredith is it meant she could not disclose the whole of her plans to him. Meredith knew the maleficar plague would require ruthlessness and equally ruthless tactics. Cullen, no matter his anger, would only go so far when it came to dealing with the mages. Better he be kept in the dark, put to use where he'd be of the most benefit and other less noble knights sent to clean up the mess.
But now, Cullen had a use that could get Meredith to what she'd been wanting for years: a way inside the Underground. If Meredith could steer Cullen to push Neria Surana to the Underground, she could finally eradicate the apostate vermin polluting the bowels of Kirkwall. But how to do it?
She heard of their quarrel; Cullen confining the girl to quarters over some trivial matter. No doubt to show the girl he had no regard for her, and Meredith guessed the girl believed him about as much as she did. Another benefit of his honesty—the boy couldn't lie with any degree of effectiveness. She'd also heard of their interaction in the fortress's chapel. Innocent, but evidence that the boy still held feelings for the mage. That regard could have a use, but could also prove dangerous to Meredith's plans. she had no desire to lose the boy, but if she had to in order to win this war, she would sacrifice him.
But for now, all of this would have to be handled delicately and now was not the opportune moment. Meredith knew she would have to wait. Bide her time. She was not unused to waiting and knew, more often than not, to do so paid off spectacularly. So she would wait. And so would Cullen.

Her mind made up, she sat in her chair across from where Cullen stood. "For now? Wait."

"But, Knight-Com—"

Meredith raised a hand. "I understand the threat and the urgency, Cullen, but right now we do not have enough information. We would put the people of Kirkwall at risk to act blindly and hastily. We would put those mages who have unwittingly placed themselves in a vulnerable position in danger and lose the maleficars. We must wait for our quarry to slip. For now, we observe. Let them grow complacent. There are other matters to attend to within the city and within these walls."

Meredith met the boy's eyes. He hated being confined to the Circle and now that the Surana girl was here, he'd hate it even more. It was the perfect opportunity to press them towards each other. There was plenty of clerical work Cullen had been ignoring in favor of field work—not entirely of his own doing as Meredith always kept her options open should she need the knight-captain desked for a time. It seemed the need had arrived. The other problems plaguing both the city and the tower required her hand. The boy would be angry, but Meredith knew how to placate him.

"There's things for you to see to here," she continued. He scowled. "I appreciate and need your drive, Cullen, but in order to lull them into complacency, they must think we have moved our focus elsewhere. Work within the tower and see what can be discovered." He was still unhappy at this news. All it would take was a little praise, a little nudge and a seeding of an idea in his mind.
"I know this is asking you to sit when you'd rather be doing. You're a man of action, same as I. You see the threats, feel them. Every moment you're not doing something it means someone innocent could be hurt." He eased a fraction.
"But we need to eradicate the Underground. Completely. Acting too rashly will lose us the war."

He conceded, giving a nod. The boy was no fool. In fact, Meredith knew he would make for an excellent Commander someday if she could temper his anger into a productive motivator. He was intelligent, tactical, charismatic in a reserved and dignified way, cared for the knights in his charge even if from a distance, even the mages though it was not without distrust. He was ambitious and driven and keen. He'd quickly surpassed the other knights in Meredith's charge once he'd overcome the fear his previous posting had left him with, Meredith helping him mold it into a further drive.
To fear magic was to respect it; to distrust a mage was to protect them. But she needed him to do more than protect them from a distance. She needed him to earn their trust. One in particular who would be more than eager to be close to him. As if on cue, a knock sounded at her door.

"Come in."

Orsino strode inside, his green eyes hard as they landed on Meredith. She understood the elven man's frustration. He and his people were paying the price for those rogue mages plaguing the city.
Unfair in the eyes of some, but Meredith had to put pressure to the bleeding wound somewhere. At least within the tower, if she placed enough pressure, perhaps she could stem the bleeding.
"Orsino."

"Meredith," he nodded, his hand tightening around his staff. "You asked for me?"

"I did," she nodded, "I have a request of you."

He arched a dark brow. "What is it?"

"As you know, Ser Emeric was assigned to look into the disappearance of Mharen. He found nothing, but Serah Hawke aided him in his investigation into a Ninette de Carrac. Her remains were recovered, but we have not found Mharen. Concurrently, we have other mages disappearing from the tower. I thought perhaps you could recommend someone to Ser Cullen to act as an aide to him and assist Emeric as he believes he has a new lead."

"A new lead?" Orsino questioned.

"Yes," Meredith nodded, "but I thought it prudent to have a fresh pair of eyes review the records regarding Mharen and Ser Emeric's notes. While this new lead may very well lead to discovering Mharen's end at the hand of a murderer as Emeric suspects, Mharen may have utilized the Mage Underground to escape. Meaning there is a way out within the walls of this fortress that is yet unknown to the templars.
"I would have Ser Cullen take over this investigation as Emeric's new lead involves a suspect of some…status. It must be handled delicately. No mistakes. And if there is a tie to the Underground, that falls under his duties."

"Why do you ask me for a recommendation?"

"I would like a mage to act as Ser Cullen's aide in this matter. I believe having someone sensitive to magic involved may open new leads we have not yet been able to discover. I would prefer this mage be someone young, currently without duties, detached from Mharen yet shrewd."

Orsino seemed to consider it a moment, his green eyes flicking to Cullen briefly before the barest hint of a smile curled his mouth. "I have someone who would fulfill that description as well as being recommended for the job as she's acted as an aide previously."

Meredith kept her face neutral as Orsino took the bait. "Who?"

"Neria Surana."

Cullen startled, opening his mouth to protest, but Meredith cut him off, pretending not to notice. "The mage from Kinloch?"

Orsino nodded, a smugness to his features as he watched Cullen squirm. "Yes. She became aide to her First Enchanter. She dealt with all manner of things on his behalf in the aftermath of the tower's fall. The Tranquil, the Fomari, Circle records, liaison between the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander, seeing the mage's duties and the like."

"Why would a fresh mage be given such duties?"

Orsino shrugged. "Aside from options being limited after so many were slaughtered during the revolt? She'd shown promise and earned it through her work ethic. And Irving's health was poorly in the aftermath of the incident."

"Your assessment?"

"She is in need of work beyond teaching the fledglings. It's a squandering of her talents and her intelligence."

Meredith nodded. Cullen was seething. His anger would drive the girl harder to fight for him and could even drive him right into her arms. Meredith prayed this would work, but knew she would need to formulate a contingency in case it didn't. "And there is no one else you'd recommend?"

Orsino's face tightened. "Maddox, but you approved his undergoing the Rite. Karl Thekla would be the other, but murmurings say the same fate awaits him."

"Both are Ser Alrik's matters," Meredith stated, "He discovered the insubordination of the former templar, Raleigh Samson, and the illicit affair between Maddox and his lover. All were engaging in prohibited conduct and there was strong evidence that even demonic or maleficaric influence was involved. I granted Alrik's request to dismiss Samson and submit Maddox to Tranquility based on solid evidence and my own investigation.
"As to Karl Thekla, Ser Alrik claims to have evidence that the mage is in contact with an apostate or even several and may even be part of the Underground conspiracy. Other templars have voiced opposition. I await this evidence. Until then, Karl Thekla is under probation, but nothing more."

Orsino's grip tightened on his staff. "Since when have mages been denied the right to engage in romantic relationships? Since when did simply writing letters warrant the brand?"

"Since the Mage Underground has grown in influence and murmurings have begun spreading of their plans to raid the Gallows," Meredith replied firmly. "It was discovered that Maddox's lover was involved in the Underground, her letters to Maddox holding a code to pass information to the Underground."

Meredith hid her gratification at seeing Orsino thrown at this news. "How?"

"Maddox and Samson, however unfortunate, were simply the scapegoats. Maddox's lover would write two letters but place them within the same envelope. When Samson would collect the letters, a mole—who's identity still eludes us—would take the coded letter and pass it to an agent of the Underground, possibly Karl Thekla, while Samson would give Maddox only the love letter.
"Samson was dismissed for his incompetence and, in truth, lyrium addiction—which Maddox's lover exploited by offering more lyrium to Samson in exchange for his help. Maddox is the true victim in all this, but not an innocent. Samson was unaware as to the extent of his manipulation, but Maddox knew.
"He refuses to give up the mole, though I do not doubt he knows their identity. His lover also refuses and seems to be under the influence of blood magic that bars her from revealing it. Maddox may suffer from the same hex, but I believe it is simply loyalty to his lover as in the preliminary interrogations he has made implications that he interacted directly with the mole. She will be imprisoned and…interrogated. Maddox will be rendered Tranquil in order to sever his loyalty to her or this mole so that we may get to the bottom of it."

"Why are you telling me this?" Orsino was livid. Meredith had outplayed him again.

"Because you refuse to believe my suspicions, Orsino. There is blood magic happening within these walls. There are apostates and maleficars both within and without the Circle. Yet, you refuse to believe me.
"Now, I have a solid lead but it is hidden within Maddox's mind. I need your permission to subject him to the Rite. I ask for your cooperation and aide in order to set this Circle to rights. Until we end this threat, I'm afraid I must maintain the harsh but necessary restrictions upon the Circle and its loyal occupants."

Orsino hesitated, clearly unsure what his next move should be. He gave a curt nod after a few moments. "Very well. Put the boy through the Rite."

+ As I've said before, this is really an alternate universe type story of DAII. It is more how I wish the game's story would have gone. I really wish the whole of the focus would have been on The Gallows and the Mage Underground. So the timeline may be a bit off and details changed or added in order to bend the plot to that story, but I will try to maintain "canon" when I can.

+ According to the Fandom page, Otto Alrik is a Knight-Lieutenant, but there is no concrete evidence to this besides the stated "his armor indicates it". However, IMO this means nothing as templar armor all looks the same no matter the rank. That aside, it does make sense given what lieutenants in any military-like organization are responsible for. It would give him the authority to request and even carry out the Rite of Tranquility, to order templars around, to be responsible for the mages, etc.

Thanks for reading! Faves, follows and reviews are always welcome and appreciated!