The Sister and the Apostate

Xandar departs Endataurëo early in the week. He has borrowed Merrill's horse; he'd tried to borrow Nelyafinwë's but the black beast had tried to bite him. The following attempt to get a bridle on the creature had resulted in a swift kick that splintered the wall of the stable. So Xandar had decided to take the more placid animal of his other teacher.

Riding is not one of Xandar's natural skills. Mostly he just sits in the saddle and clings to the horse's neck. He manages to keep it mostly on the road, and as far as he is concerned, that is an accomplishment.

It takes several days of riding to reach the village where Sister Tiania will next be speaking. This is naturally partly to do with his riding skill, and also has something to do with the condition of the roads. Mostly it is because if he tries to reach her next destination, he'll miss her, so he has to go to the one after that, and thus must ride further than he otherwise would.

The village of Iseporth is like any other fishing village. Wooden docks and small rowing boats sit between shore and sea. The huts look like they could have come from any other village in Ferelden but are arranged just differently enough to make it easy to get lost. Fortunately for Xandar, the chantry is almost always placed in the central square.

Walking up to the small stone building, the only one in the village, Xandar pauses to take a calming breath. Once his nerves are steadied, he knocks on the door.

It takes several minutes of knocking to get a response. Once he does so, he is surprised by what he sees. Short dark hair and a pair of pale grey eyes glaring out from the door jam, a male initiate. Not necessarily unusual for a small town, but more so in the wider scale of the Chantry.

"What do you want? The lecture's not until midday." A nasal voice emerges from the doorman.

"I'm here to speak to Sister Tiania. I have an invitation." Xandar replies, smiling nervously.

The grey eyes behind the door narrow in suspicion. "A likely story."

"I'm not really sure what to tell you. I do have one, I talked to her in Brynwich, and she said I could talk to her as long as I came in the morning." Xandar says, nerves creeping into his voice now.

"And I'm supposed to just take your word for it, I suppose?" The man sneers derisively. "No. Go away."

"Can you at least ask her? Tell her it's Xandar, and if she says she doesn't know me I'll go." Xandar asks desperately, genuine fear that he has made a mistake creeping into his heart.

The eyes behind the door roll in irritation, and there is a click as it shuts. Xandar sits on the steps and waits. It feels as though he is waiting for hours though it was perhaps only minutes. Xandar is wondering how long he should wait before leaving when the door opens once more.

"Xandar. I wasn't expecting you so soon." Sister Tiania's voice proclaims.

The Antivan pulls him to his feet and greets him. "I hope you have not had too difficult a time getting here. I've heard something about some deserters in the area."

"No, it was very peaceful." Xandar replies, stunned. "It's good to see you?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Tiania replies, sounding amused.

Xandar curses and feels around for Merrill's gift. "Sorry, it's good to see you. I'm really bad at talking to people, so I had Merrill help me plan it out."

"Really? You seemed fine last time we spoke." Tiania replies, sounding concerned.

"Well not really, I mean I made you think I wanted to elope with you or something." Xandar explains, pulling out the set of cue cards he had made with his teacher. "These should keep me from saying anything awkward or embarrassing."

The expression on Tiania's face suggests that in the short time he's not been using them, he's already messed up.

"Merrill is one of your teachers, yes?" The Sister asks. "What did the other one have to say about the matter?"

"He said that I'd never improve without practice, and that I should just try talking to you." Xandar grimaced.

"Well, I suppose this isn't the strangest conversation I've had. Shall we go for a walk?" Tiania smiles tolerantly.

As the two begin to walk about the village, Xandar chooses what he will say first.

Xandar fumbles the first card, nearly dropping it. He glances at the questions on it, and quickly decides he isn't interested in the answers. Maybe his teacher was onto something with just attempting to speak and handling the consequences after all.

"So um, I was wondering what you're doing in Ferelden." He asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his head with a card.

Tiania raises a single eyebrow.

Quickly realising his mistake, Xandar rushes to correct himself. "No, I mean, uh. What are you doing in Ferelden? No that's still wrong. Why are you doing your lecture tour in Ferelden and not Antiva?"

"Well, the fact that I have already done this in Antiva is a significant part of the reason." Tiania replies, amused. "It's hardly the only reason though. It's part of a program that the various Chantries run. Theologians swap countries semi-regularly to try and keep doctrine from diverging too much."

"Isn't there a lot of disagreement between different Chantries though?" Xandar askes, frowning. "I mean the Imperial Chantry is basically a mouthpiece for the Magisters."

Tiania is surprised by his words, but answers despite that. "The Imperial Chantry is an outlier. Generally, most of us acknowledge the supremacy of the Orlesian Divine, and these meetings help to prevent too much doctrinal drift between countries."

"Amazing." Xandar replies honestly, even as he wonders how many fairies are smuggled under the cover of this scheme. "How long has this been going on?"

"I believe it was started by Divine Clemence I." Tiania replies, narrowing her eyes. "Sometime in 4:56?"

"Appel à l'unité 4:56?" Xandar asks. "The one where she pleads with the Black Divine to step down for the sake of Andraste's message?"

Once again Tiania is surprised. "Yes. I do believe that's correct. You seem surprisingly well educated on the matter for an apostate."

Xandar flinches reflexively. Tiania notices and raises her hands to cover her mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you used to be in the circle. I didn't mean to offend you." She hurries to explain.

"It's fine." Xandar assures her. "It's a bit complicated and you had no way to know."

"You did say you weren't going 'back' to the circle. I should have been more careful with my words." The Sister insists on her apology.

Xandar's ability to engage socially has been pushed as far as it goes. With no idea how to handle the situation, he turns to his cards. Shuffling through them quickly reveals nothing of use.

Putting the cards away, he decides to simply jump straight to something he does know. "So why do you believe in Andraste?"

Tiania starts, obviously taken off guard. "I'm sorry what?"

"I'm just asking what you think about Andraste. Do you think she was really the bride of the Maker? That sort of thing." Xandar explains.

Tiania blinks at Xandar for a few moments, nonplussed.

Eventually she gathers herself enough to answer. "Well, I do believe that Andraste was spiritually the bride of the Maker, and clearly his most favoured if not only prophet."

"Why though?" Xandar asks.

"Excuse me?" Tiania responds guardedly. "What are you trying to say?"

"I mean everyone says that Andraste is the 'spiritual bride of the Maker' and stuff, but how do we really know?" Xandar clarified.

Tiania relaxes slightly. "I see, well that's a very common question actually. The first of course is her visions which are unique among those who have claimed to be prophets of the Maker. Then there is the miraculous victories over superior forces, and the divine charisma that enabled her to unite people behind her banner."

Xandar has his doubts about that. He's seen some incredibly convincing visions in the Fade, and charismatic leaders winning when most people believed it impossible are not unusual in history.

He leaves his doubts unvoiced for now, he has a more important task. "Why do you personally believe in Andraste?"

"Well, there is certainly a preponderance of the historical evidence." Tiania replies immediately. "More than that, I like to rely on the old 'Sceptic's Wager'. If Andraste was lying, then nothing I do will change it, but if I believe she is telling the truth then I enjoy a life of hope and peace."

"And if you're right then you really don't want to be an unbeliever." Xandar finishes. "Though if she's a liar and the Maker sent another prophet then you're actively harming the cause."

"Hence the preponderance of the historical evidence." Tiania replies calmly. "I have examined the various claims, and only Andraste's is sufficiently convincing."

Xandar is never quite sure how to explain to people that Andraste had been mind controlled by a spirit pretending to be the maker. Generally, people don't believe his evidence, and it tends to end friendships.

In hindsight, telling templar initiates their religion was a lie had been a poor idea, but how was he supposed to know that without trying it? He still thinks Joel overreacted though.

"Xandar I have a request." Sister Tiania's voice yanks him from his thoughts. "Would you be willing to do something for me?"

"I'm pretty sure you can just say one of those." Xandar replies thoughtlessly. "They kind of mean the same thing."

"True enough, but I wanted to make it clear that I was asking if you were comfortable with me making a request before I presented it to you." Tiania explained. "A lot of people feel compelled to do things when a Chantry Sister asks them to."

"Oh, yeah I guess that makes sense. I don't really mind. Nova asks me to do things all the time, and I ignore her." Xandar assures the kind Antivan. "You can ask me anything."

"Thank you, Xandar." Tiania smiles gently. "I would like to meet your teachers; would that be possible do you think?"

Xandar took a deep breath. He wanted her to meet Nelyafinwë. He was confident that when she met a real prophet she'd pretty quickly figure out that Andraste had been a liar. There was just one problem.

"He's pretty busy. Like basically all the time." Xandar admitted, hating the way it sounded. "I'd love to introduce you, but if we go straight there, he's not going to be around. He's out with the elf mage who showed up recently. Solas I think he's called."

"What about the other teacher, Merrill. Is she around?" Tiania asks, taking great care to sound neutral.

"Normally, yeah. But she's got something really important to do back at her clan." Xandar explains. "It's kind of why I came. I'm pretty much free right now. Both of my teachers are busy right now."

"I see." Tiania states calmly. "Perhaps it is for the best, I am hardly within easy distance of your home right now. It might have taken some time to organise."

"Yeah. It'll have to be next week or after that. I guess it's not possible for you to come to Endataurëo, so I'll probably need to bring them here." Xnadar sighs.

"Are you sure they will be willing to do so?" Tiania asks. "You said it's a bit of a trip and we'll only be moving further away. Maybe it's better to wait until I'm coming up the other way."

"Maybe, but teacher's horse moves faster than anything I've ever seen. I'd have ridden it here if it didn't bite me every time I tried to get on." Xandar explains, scowling at the memory. "If he's with us we'll make really good time."

"You're certain?" Tiania repeats. "I don't want to get you in trouble."

"It never hurts to ask. If they can't do it or don't want to, they'll just tell me that they can't." Xandar reassures her.

"Very well. I'll just have to be ready if you show up out of the blue with your teachers in tow." Tiania laughs.

"Well maybe I can send a message ahead, there's probably a spell for that." Xandar's words quickly dissolve into muttering as he tries to figure out how that would work.

"Don't worry about it. I'm already prepared to have you show up for another chat, adding more people to that is hardly going to cause trouble." Tiania reassures the apostate.

The two of them spend the remaining morning discussing obscure pieces of Chantry lore. Interpretations of individual sections of various cants and the reasoning behind the Maker's decisions are lent equal weight.

Xandar rides away at noon. Almost immediately he regrets not stopping for lunch, but it is too late to turn back once he realises how hungry he is. Despite the less than ideal ending, the young apostate is happy with his day.

He had fun.

Lady and Prince

You return in the evening. Xandar has departed to meet his friend, and for your part you are exhausted by your argument with Lanaya. Since departing her clan your thoughts have returned to the topic again and again, worrying over what you might have said to sway her, and what might be yet to come.

Understandably, you are exhausted and ready for an early dinner and an equally early bed. When you find a man with a tangled beard and threadbare clothes slamming his fist against your door, you are equally understandably annoyed.

As you approach the man whirls around to look at you. His hair is as unkempt as his beard, and his eyes have a glint of madness to them. Your hand creeps towards your sword unbidden as his wild stare focuses on you.

"Ah, I see what she meant now. That's Knowledge." He mutters to himself.

"Some have called me that." You reply. "They are wrong to do so. I am Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol, and that was my door you were striking."

"Whatever. I've got a bone to pick with you." The man snarls. "You know what's been happening to me? I've been absolutely bombarded with messages every night; I can't get away. It's giving Them something to track to me, and it's all your fault."

"I am not unsympathetic to your sleeping troubles, but I assure you I have done nothing to cause them." You reply, slightly taken aback by his vehemence.

"Oh, is that what you think?" The man laughs cruelly. "Oh no, my little abomination, it's this wonderful little contraption about your house. It stops anything from reaching in and chatting, and all your little spirit friends are part of that. They're angry you're not sharing the little meat puppets inside, don't you know."

Your eyes narrow, and you step into the man's personal space. "Whatever sympathy I have for you does not extend to permission to insult me. I am not an abomination, and those who dwell within my walls are under my protection. State your business or begone!"

For a moment, the human matches your glare with his own. Whatever he sees within your eyes clearly unnerves him, and he drops his gaze and shrinks in on himself.

"The Lady of the Forest wants to speak to you. She has a proposal and wants to speak to you at your earliest convenience." He says, defeated.

"Is that all?" You ask coolly.

The man nods.

"Do you wish to avail yourself of a meal or a bath before you depart?" You ask, offering the customary hospitality for a messenger.

The man shakes his head, slowly drifting towards the trees.

"Then begone." You command.

You watch as the man disappears back into the forest. When the sounds of his flight fade beyond even your hearing, you reach out and open a way into the Beyond.

Within the shadow of Endataurëo, you extend out your senses to seek the Lady. Through the air and the ground your will snakes, seeking its target. Swiftly you find the familiar feeling spirit. Even as you prepare to head towards her, you get a response.

A wind rises from nowhere. On the breeze a sighing voice is carried.

"I will come to you."

Within the Beyond, the Lady of the Forest looks very different. She is not humanoid, even slightly. In fact, if it were not for your senses, you would mistake her for the tree that suddenly appears before you. She is not the tree, nor the wind, nor even the animals that start to appear. She is all of them and none of them. The forest itself, rather than its component parts.

"You called me, and I have come. What is your proposal?" You ask quietly, not fooled by the seeming distance between you and the spirit.

The branches groan. "You know of the darkness coming from the south."

"I do." You reply, leaning against a tree that appears behind you. "I take it you do not wish it to harm your trees."

"The forest where you dwell has already been tainted by the touch of darkness." The wind sighs. "Were it not for my bindings, even I might have succumbed as Joy did."

If this is not a request to defend the Brecilian, then what could it be. "Is the forest we met in your forest? If not, then which forest are you the Lady of?"

"You are Knowledge. You should know." A squirrel chatters.

This reminds you of the riddle challenge from last week. You consider how you could know what forest she claims. Flowers bloom around the roots of the trees around you, and the answer becomes obvious.

"Not the components but the forest itself." You remind yourself. "You claim all forests."

"And I would have them kept safe from the curse of the great one." The Forest says in unison. "I cannot act directly in the world, but I offer you my aid none the less."

Questions rush to the forefront of your mind. What would such an agreement mean for the forest? Did she have some hidden agenda? Was she in any way related to that bizarre thing calling itself Tom Bombadil? Is there any chance she knows Yavanna?

It is that final question that calms your racing thoughts. The Lady reminds you greatly of the Queen of the Earth. To the extent that you feel that it would be reasonable to act as though it was the Giver of Fruits herself.

If it were the Valië making this offer, would it be safe? Yes, it would be. For all the Yavanna disliked the way incarnates treated her forests, she was always kind to the Eldar. The Lady of the Forest was not a servant of the Secret Fire, but you had seen the way she treated the nauro. She had shown compassion and mercy where there had been no obvious cause to do so.

As long as you remember that she was not necessarily 'on your side', you foresee little danger from accepting her offer. Your interests align and her behaviour is close enough to Yavanna for the matter to be safe. You might have to make sure to keep any logging to a minimum for the duration of the partnership, but you believe you will get a warning if it becomes a problem.

"I must confess it is quite novel for someone to simply come up and offer aid unprompted." You grin, extending your hand into the empty air. "I accept you aid gladly."

For a moment the forest is silent. Then, slowly, a vine grows down from a branch. It twists and turns until it touches your hand, then it begins to multiply. Growths twist and tangle until they form the rough shape of a hand. As the vine hand clasps your own, you shake it up and down.

Flowers bloom along the vines. The branches sway cheerily and the birds and beasts chatter in joy. Despite extending your senses to the uttermost, you detect nothing mystical beyond the Lady's presence. The only possibility you can think of is that this is the Lady's equivalent of a smile.

"As great as it is to have made an ally so early, I am afraid we cannot simply luxuriate in such feelings." You inform the spirit. "If we are to be allies, we must know more of each other's capabilities. As a sign of trust, I will go first."

For a time, perhaps an hour though in the Beyond it is impossible to judge the passage of time, you explain what you know of the darkspawn. Their nature, and the mechanisms of their corruption. From there, you move onto physical combat, its mechanics and the might you can bring to bear therein.

During this time, the Lady grows a vaguely humanoid form from the tree and vines that she used to shake your hand. Through it, she is able to ask questions much more easily. You are vaguely amused when you realise that it is exactly as tall as you are.

Once you have explained all that you know of your mutual foe, and answered her questions, you say, "Now that I have done my part, would you perhaps explain what aid I can expect from your end."

The Lady's avatar tilts a wooden head, vines of 'hair' blooming with red flowers. "My powers are sadly limited beyond this realm. I have some influence over the animals and plants that dwell within a 'forest' but that is restricted greatly by the Veil. It is easier in Brecilian and other places the Veil is weak."

"So, I should not expect much aid in the physical world?" You ask, unconcerned and unsurprised.

"Hardly, I sent those war hounds to you did I not?" The avatar seems to pause in confusion. "Oh dear, mouths are harder than I thought. The point here is that I can provide more of such things if you wish."

Perhaps, but you are unsure if that would be the best use of your newfound ally. Having a friendly spirit offers up a host of options within the Beyond and in magic. You consider your options carefully.

For a moment, you consider asking the Lady to reach out to other spirits. Speaking to someone who has seen other Blights could be a significant advantage. However, you quickly discard this option. Even if the Blights do not evolve after their failure, there are enough organisations that should have records that it is a waste of an ally.

The comparisons with Yavanna draw your thoughts in a different direction. Melian had single handedly safeguarded Doriath from Morgoth for centuries. Though this spirit is but a pale shadow of the Ainur, they are said to be mighty in this world's magic.

Merrill had suggested powering magic items with spirits before. It may be something she knows is possible, but you are willing to take a risk and assume she knows how to make such a thing. With between the two of you and the spirit you should be able to create something.

Before you do anything else, you should make sure that the Lady is willing to cooperate.

"I have heard that with the aid of spirits, mighty magic may be achieved. Is this true?" You ask her.

"You know it is. Surely you recall Zathrien's spell." The lady replies.

"Yes, that is true." You muse, so much has happened since then you had almost forgotten. "Would you be willing to aid in something of a similar nature?"

The wood cracks and groans as the avatar creates a ridge above its 'eyes'. The ridge then angles down as though they were frowning eyebrows. The air fills with the cawing of crows and the wind grows chill and cold.

"I hope you are not suggesting what I think you are, Knowledge." The Lady's voice has lost all cheer. "Surely you would not return me to the cursed existence you yourself freed me from."

"That is not what I meant. I hope to weave a working of great power, such that it would need you to sustain it. It would not be a prison, nor would it be done against your will." You explain calmly, not wanting to appear nervous. "You would be involved in its creation, so there would be no tricks involved."

The Lady's form grows taller still in an attempt to loom over you, but since you have faced many foes larger than yourself it does little. The glowing green sockets where its eyes would be peer at you, as though they mean to see through your body and into your soul.

Suddenly the ridges over the glowing lights flatten, the wind dies down and birdsong fills the air again.

"What is it you wish to create, Knowledge?" The Lady asks in a friendly voice.

"In my home, there was a spell called the Girdle of Melian. It protected a kingdom from all harm, forbidding entry to any with hostile intentions. I would attempt to recreate that, even if in a diminished state, for Brecilian." You explain.

"Very well. Fetch your mage, I will be waiting." The Lady replies.

There is a horrible crack, and a fissure opens on the avatar's wooden face. Between the impression of a nose and the chin, it runs horizontally, curving from one side to another.

The Lady catches a glimpse of the horror you feel at the sight, and defensively says, "Mouths are hard."

Merrill is packing when you find her. With a knock on the open door to announce yourself, you sweep into the room.

"Merrill, we are going into the Beyond for an hour or two. Your trip will have to wait." You inform her.

"What are you talking about?" Merrill yelps in surprise. "This is important!"

"I am aware, but we have a rare opportunity to potentially prevent the darkspawn from entering the forest entirely. Whatever is happening is not as important as that." You pronounce.

Merrill opens her mouth to disagree, then pauses. Anger, frustration, hope and resignation flash across her face.

"I hate it when you're right." She grumbles, crossing her arms. "It makes you insufferable."

"I am correct far more often than I am wrong." You note, grabbing her arm. "Prepare yourself."

With a twist and a step, the two of you are once more in the Beyond. After Merrill greets the Lady, you begin to explain the Girdle to her.

"Nothing hostile?" Merrill asks when you finish.

"Nobody with hostile intent; no matter how well hidden." You clarify. "I checked, extensively."

"How is that even possible? You'd need to be able to read the minds of whoever approached, that's a pretty complex spell." Merrill muses.

"The Ainur innately possess the ability to read the hearts of mortals, and given that the Girdle departed with Melian, I would suspect it is closer to an active working than a spell tied to a location." You theorise as best you can.

Merrill's eyes light up. "That's why you want the spirit. I see, rather than something like an enchantment you're thinking more akin to a possession."

You are about to raise concerns, when the Lady speaks. "I have been bound to a living thing once before, I will not be bound again."

"No, sorry. I didn't mean literally, I meant more in the principles behind it." Merrill hurried to explain. "Here, how about I walk you through what I'm thinking…"

Merrill launches into a long explanation of the working she is planning. Your understanding of magical theory is far too scant to follow what she is saying. Even the Lady, native to the Beyond as she is, still needs explanations of what Merrill means.

As far as you can tell, Merrill means to invest a certain proportion of the Lady's power into the forest itself. What this accomplishes is a mystery to you, but it turns out to be irrelevant.

"The taint of pride, wrath, desire and sloth is far too great. Unless it is cleared my influence over the forest will be negligible at best." The Lady states sadly, her wooden face displaying the same emotion with its newly defined features.

"The forest is tainted by demons?" Merrill exclaims.

"I knew it!" You yell triumphantly.