Thirteen
Carastes 9:25 Dragon
Cassius closed his eyes, squeezing the tears out of the corners as he bit his tongue and tried to swallow down the emotion.
"Come on, we don't have all day," Senior Enchanter Troilus snapped as he crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. "Fire. It's not that hard."
The senior enchanter grated at having to teach at all, much less on the days when he had to teach the youngest apprentices. The first floor of the tower contained all of the children who had just come into their gift. The youngest on the floor were just five years old, while Cassius was well past his ninth birthday and was one of the oldest left.
If students weren't able to complete the beginner's exam by the time they hit ten years of age, they were sent home. Apprentices needed to demonstrate basic aptitude in each of the schools of magic in both offensive and defensive techniques. Some of the Altus children had completed it even before their seventh birthday, while most others took the exam and completed it at age eight.
Cassius' magic hadn't even manifested until nearly his eighth birthday, and it had taken a full year for the instructors to put him through the grueling lessons needed to teach him to read and write and carry himself as a proper mage of the Tevinter Imperium, all of that amid also trying to help him understand and control his gift.
He took a breath and reset his feet, holding the training staff out in front of him, the head pointed toward the Senior Enchanter. He was alone. All of the other students had completed their lessons adequately for the day and been sent back to the dormitory. He was the only one remaining now.
"Hurry up!" Troilus shouted again, the volume startling Cassius.
He replayed the lesson in his head. Feel the magic of the Fade. Open the connection through the Veil. Draw the mana across the barrier. Control the inflow of power. Close the connection once adequate mana is drawn. Shape the magic into the desired form. Execute the spell.
Cassius closed his eyes and began the process, reaching out with his sixth sense across the barrier and feeling the magic on the other side, ebbing and flowing like great waves of the ocean, infinite, powerful and uncontrollable. He touched the barrier of the Veil with his mind, gently opening the curtain. The mana began to spill out and he worked to collect it, letting the ethereal power flow into and fill him. Not too much, the enchanters had warned, just enough to do what you needed to do. He shut off the flow of the mana, feeling the magic power sloshing through his body as he shifted his focus to closing the Veil.
He calmed himself, focusing the power inward toward his chest like the instructors had told him. When he had it corralled, he began to push it up his arms, past his elbows, into his wrists and hands and up the shaft of the training staff.
Cassius opened his eyes as he pushed the last of the mana into the staff, looking at the glowing light surrounding the rounded head of the staff like a halo.
"Fire," Cassius whispered to himself. "Fire…"
He stared at the glowing magic of the staff, trying to transform it.
He knew what fire looked like. His father used to chop wood in preparation for the cold months. He would put a log or two into the sooty hearth and set it ablaze with tinder. Cassius would sit close by, feeling the warmth of the flames flickering, counteracting the cold drafts of wind that blew through the walls after the sun went down.
His mother would hang the big, black iron pot over the flames, filling it with water and chopped vegetables and animal bones, sometimes with chunks of meat and fat still clinging to them. She'd let it sit there, bubbling, filling the house with an appetizing aroma. When supper time came around, she would ladle it into bowls and they'd sit down to eat as family. Sometimes, when it was very cold out, she'd even give Cassius an extra scoop to eat when he'd finished what was in his bowl.
He remembered the flames in the fields when some men had come by and put the grain to the torch. His mother had yelled at him to stay in the house and she and his father ran back and forth hauling buckets of water from the well, trying in vain to douse the flames before it spread across the entire field of crops dry and brittle after being scorched by a late-summer drought. When they had finally got it under control, they had lost a third of the field. His mother sat on the ground outside the house and cried, while his father had ridden off to town to report what had happened.
The following day, a richly dressed mage had come out and walked the burned field with his father, exchanging words. They had got into a shouting match in the middle of the burned and ashen stalks. When the mage had left, his father had yelled at the sky, shouting curses and kicking the burnt and broken bits left in his field until his mother corralled him inside the house to help her fold the washing.
Three days later, the mage and a companion returned to their land with four men badly bruised and beaten, stripped bare except for their filthy, tattered pants, all four led to the homestead in chains. The mage had stood by as the men — once bandits, now slaves — cleared the burned material from the field, turned over the soil, plowed it again by hand without the aid of the horses, and reseeded it.
Whenever they would stop or slow, the mage would snap his fingers and his colleague would run out in the field and beat the offending slave into the ground, leaving them slashed and bloody until they stumbled back to their feet and back to work.
When their work was done, the field was fertilized with their flesh and watered with their blood as the mage tore them limb from limb with his magic as judgment for their crimes against the Imperium.
Cassius could still remember the way they screamed as the magic ripped them into pieces, the wailing of the others begging for mercy as they watched the slave before them executed in the most gruesome fashion. Such was the harsh justice in the fringes of the Imperium.
When Cassius snapped out of his memory, the glowing ball of mana at his staff was now a roiling fireball, pulsing with heat and growing larger by the second.
He only then noticed Troilus yelling at him. "... control it! Stop what you're doing you…"
Cassius couldn't hear what was said next as the fireball grew unstable and burst in an explosion that knocked Cassius back off his feet and onto the floor of the training room. His head banged against the floor as he hit, making him see stars. After a stunned moment as he sat up, he realized his sleeves were on fire as he frantically beat his arms against the floor to try to put them out.
As he looked at the singed fabric of his sleeves, the tears he was trying to hold back finally broke free as he stared at his hands, unburnt but likewise unable to form even the most basic of spells.
"You Praeteri idiot!" Senior Enchanter Troilus shouted as he stomped over, looming over Cassius like a stormcloud.
"I'm sorry, Senior Enchanter," Cassius tried to apologize, amidst his own blubbering.
"Next time do us all a favor, blow yourself into pieces and save us the headache of trying to teach you," Troilus raged, turning his back as he started marching away.. "Maker-damned trash raked in from the countryside. I swear…"
He was out the door and out of earshot, still shouting to himself as he went, leaving Cassius alone in the training room.
He was running out of time. If he couldn't complete his exams by his tenth birthday they would send him home. He would have to return to the farm, disgraced. He dreaded seeing the look on his mother's face, or his father's, as he came up the dirt path with his meager bag of belongings, expelled from the Circle.
He remembered the way his father hugged him at the front gate of the tower as he prepared to leave his only son with the mages, so full of hope that his only boy would grow up to become something, someone of value in the Imperium. To be born with magic, they called it a gift because, for those low-born lucky enough to inherit it, it was a doorway to a life they could otherwise never access.
He was blessed with a gift, and unable to master it.
He tried, but he simply couldn't understand.
No one had the patience to teach him.
They just expected him to know.
And, here he was, failing.
Minrathous 9:42 Dragon
The men had all taken their seats around the table, and Porenni banged his fist against the table to silence them.
The Venatori were gathered. It wasn't all of their sympathizers, no, but the group of ten, which had been formed and named the Decade, had been hand-picked to plan their next campaign. There were others, on other assignments, meeting in other places, focused on their other work.
They had agreed to meet at the long table in Magister Danarius' quarters — the others had been far less concerned with security than with the opportunity to lavish themselves in the penthouse. Albi Danarius had brought in enough food to feed twice as many men, as well as good wine. When the arrangements were made, Cassius had sent him away, still not entirely convinced of his intentions.
Cassius took his seat at the far end of the table at the lowest seat. While Magister Arrentius was actually rising to become of the more notable and valuable Magisters working for the Venatori, Cassius was still just a Praeteri and the others weren't likely to tolerate seeing him above them for any reason.
"Let's begin," Magister Porenni growled, shooting scowls around the table at the few who were still quietly chatting to one another, his eyes two annoyed daggers.
Magister Julius Porenni was still as Cassius had remembered him from their brief encounter previously in the capital, when he had dropped off Flavius' chest of gold toward the cause. Porenni was short tempered and severe, a miserly and bitter old man who found fault in everyone who crossed his path. The Porennis had a long history of being one of the most vocal houses pushing to crush the Qunari once and for all and then turn their attention back toward the Southern Chantry. He was an unabashed xenophobe, openly hostile to foreigners and any influence they might try to bring to taint the purity of the Imperium.
His house, however, did control significant military might, so he had been a critical component to the Venatori and the Elder One's right hand, Calpernia, had hand-selected him to chair the meeting. No one Cassius had ever met had good things to say about the man, one who was feared by many and loved by few. Still, few wanted to cross him and bring his fury upon themselves.
Magister Antony Gallus was the second chair. He was a scholar by trade and had become prominent enough in the Magisterium to obtain a seat on the Circle Oversight Committee, directly responsible for keeping tabs on operations in the mages towers. That was a prestigious position and Gallus was a man the Venatori had been happy to win over, in hopes of introducing their ideas into the student curriculum.
He was a middle-aged man with short hair and a short beard both in rather mundane brown color, with dark brown eyes. That being said, he had sharp eyes and ears and was quick wit. Cassius had heard that his stay in Minrathous would be abbreviated, as he would be leaving his son to sit his seat for him while he deployed to the Hissing Wastes in an effort to help decipher old dwarven runes in the Venatori dig sites.
The third highest ranking Magister among the group, technically, was Magister Varus Acra. At nearly eighty years, he had picked up the cognomen "The Old," as there had been rumors circulating for years now that he was on his deathbed. And yet, there he still was. However, while Magister Acra still occupied his physical body, there was little left of his mind. Most knew that he was almost non-functionally senile at this point and more likely to fall asleep in his chair during committee hearings or floor sessions than to say anything meaningful.
He was accompanied at all times by his slave attendant, an elf woman named Elia, who handled most of his affairs for him. Magister Acra had little to offer, but his slave, on the other hand, had proven quite useful. She had been funneling most of his household's wealth toward the Venatori cause without causing suspicion among the jumble of claimants waiting for the old man to die so they could kill either other for who would succeed him, the result of Varus living too long and thereby leaving no direct heir to his seat.
Magister Cressida Ceratori was fourth. She hailed from a greatly weakened Altus line and had married down to a Laetan husband. There were rumors that, in her youth, she had once been viewed as a possible betrothal option for Dorian Pavus, although Cassius never could verify those claims himself and couldn't understand what the Pavus line might have stood to gain from a match like that.
Magister Ceratori did have bright blue eyes under silky blonde hair and she might have been prettier in her youth, but the word was she greatly enjoyed food and wine, too much, too often. She was sharp-tongued and, as one of the few women serving in the Magisterium, didn't take kindly to anyone who might try to talk over or past her.
The fifth and last magister in the group was new to the organization and just dipping his feet into the hierarchy of the Venatori. Magister Demetrius "Metri" Aurelian was not a firebrand of any type — he spent most of his time in the Magisterium quietly working behind the scenes on roads. He was known for being the man to go to in order to coordinate new engineering, funding and manpower for road construction and maintenance. He typically avoided political arguments in favor of pragmatic needs.
That was until the Inquisition captured and executed Magister Erimond in the south. The two men had been classmates in the Circle, grown up together as good friends and colleagues in the Magisterium. And while Erimond had pursued more lofty ambitions while Aurelian kept his head grounded, the man had approached the Venatori to offer his services in whatever way was needed in hopes of exacting revenge on the southern infidels.
The other four men, along with Cassius, were not magisters and were more closely his peers than the others at the table carrying their house's weight and title.
The meeting marked a reunion of Cassius with Lysander Vespasian, who had been requested specifically by Magister Arrentius and accepted to the board, and whose very presence notably grated Magister Ceratori.
Cassius had another reunion with two of his former cohorts from the Circle in Carastes, as Jaxxon Terititus and Plinius Paverri were both selected to serve as representatives for their fathers. The two men had terrorized him in the Circle tower in his youth, until he had received a transfer to the Circle in Minrathous in his teenage years with the help and blessing of Magister Arrentius.
But time changes people and Cassius had seen that first hand in his brief conversation with both.
Jaxxon had grown to become even more of an arrogant and obnoxious ass than he was in the Circle as a child. He was loud and rude, walking around shaking hands with the other magisters and boasting loudly about himself despite the fact that he officially was their lesser and had accomplished nothing of note yet in his life. If he knew that — and he may not have because it was not his mind or talents but the helping hands of the instructors and his father's money that helped shove him across the finish line to graduation — he didn't seem to pay it any mind. Magister Porenni scowled so deeply at him Cassius was surprised it didn't melt his flesh right off his bones.
Jaxxon was wearing a gaudy amount of gold and jewels, traipsing around with his nose in the air as if he had recently been elected archon. Cassius shook his hand and quickly found a reason to excuse himself to avoid the man any longer than he needed.
Plinius, on the other hand, was nothing like his youthful self, serving as Jaxxon's right hand in their wide-ranging torment in the Circle. He came to the meeting with a half cape in black draped over his right shoulder, hiding the fact that the sleeve underneath was empty. He wore a black, unadorned eye patch too that covered not just his right eye but also most of his right cheek. He had been called to fight on Seheron three summers past and, while leading a battalion of men, had suffered a grievous wound at the hands of a Qunari greataxe that had taken off his arm as well as a chunk of his face.
Where once he was as loud and intolerable as Jaxxon, his experiences on the front had returned him to Tevinter a different man. He was now quiet and pensive, no doubt the result of many weeks spent in a hospital always on the brink of death but never dying. The mages and doctors had done remarkable work not only to save his life but to put him back together, cosmetically, as well as they had. What they couldn't fix, however, was his mind, which had been forever, irreparably changed.
Last of the Decade was a man Cassius had not met before. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed, pale-faced but his visage grim with a seething rage he made no effort to mask. He was just recently out of the Circle in the south and the word was that he had gone through his Harrowing and that even after he awoke he had been so unconvinced of the reality of the world that he had wounded three enchanters and two templars in a furious conflagration of his own creation before he was able to be subdued.
Vitellius Calixtus, or Calix, as he was known, was only half Tevinter, the other half Nevarran. But if he were capable of drawing a knife and cutting every square inch of Nevarra from his flesh and organs and letting every ounce of their blood drain from his body, he might have tried.
Plin took the seat next to Cassius, while Lysander sat across the table from him, as far as possible from Magister Ceratori, who was three seats up on Cassius' side of the table. Jaxxon scoffed as he took his seat next to Vespasian, looking at his company and muttering under his breath about umbrage he thought the others were casting at him by making him sit amongst the low-born.
"The Elder One has called this Decade together to prepare for our next move. He is greatly displeased by the failures of his armies, first in Ferelden, then in the Western Approach. We have wasted a great many resources in the South, being humiliated by dog lords from Ferelden and the foppish, effeminate Orlesians," Magister Porenni said. "The Elder One is displeased. I am displeased. The incompetence the Venatori has shown so far ends now."
Porenni slammed his fist upon the table, hard enough and loud enough almost to wake Magister Acra, who stirred but remained asleep with his chin tucked down into his chest.
"What do you expect when we send Praeteri trash to carry out our mission?" Jaxxon offered from the end of the table, glancing sideways at Cassius. No doubt he had heard about their failed mission in Ferelden and his capture and ransom home. "Cowards who won't even fight and surrender at the first sign of trouble."
Cassius offered no rebuttal, which was just as well because Magister Porenni was in no mood to listen to pettiness and bickering.
"Silence that idiot tongue of yours. We sit preparing our next moves and Magister Terititus can't be bothered to attend himself, instead sending me his worthless child," Porenni hissed.
Jaxxon no doubt wanted to shout something back across the table, but for once exercised a bit of good judgment and merely shut his mouth, albeit with anger burning in his eyes.
"Now that I am done disciplining the children," Porenni said, glaring at Jaxxon yet again, "I will share the details of our new plan.
"We had sent a mage south into Nevarra, Virellius, to infiltrate the court of the ailing Pentaghast king. He had surprisingly little trouble infiltrating the palace under the guise of an emissary from Tevinter. He was able to ensorcel the king and open the door for our soldiers and agents to infiltrate and traverse through Nevarra on their way south," Porenni said. "Regrettably, his involvement was discovered, and Virellius and his conspirators were assassinated. We suspect the Inquisition was involved, but cannot link them directly to it. Regardless, Markus Pentaghast has become much more suspicious and has clamped down not only on the palace but Nevarra as a whole in an effort to prevent further penetration.
"Fortuitously, Pentaghast's crackdown has not been popular with his own people and the tighter security he has enacted is more often scorned than welcomed. Furthermore, more hardline enforcement at the border has irritated the Imperium, who now find simple trading more difficult. There have been a few skirmishes between our soldiers and Nevarra's. Tensions remain high."
Porenni tented his fingers and nearly smiled, if his old, wrinkled dour face were capable of making the gesture any more. "Gentlemen," he said, ignoring Magister Certaori and Magister Acra's slave as two women amongst the group, "We are going to change that. Calix, tell them."
The young man, who had taken a seat at Porenni's right hand despite his youth and lack of rank, pushed back his chair and stood, his fingers rolled into fists and clenched.
"I'm Vitellius Calixtus. My family is newly Laetan, and the Imperium has entrusted our house with protection of a lengthy march along the Tevinter-Nevarran border. There is one official crossing, but it has long been known for many illicit crossings along the border. My family has made a mission of shutting those down, and killing any corpse fucker who dares to cross into our territory," Calix explained. "These crossings will now become an asset to us."
Calix reached under the table, producing a rolled sheet that he now sprawled out across the long-table. Cassius scanned over it, recognizing it as a close-up of the Silent Plains and Tevinter-Nevarra border, assumedly the march belonging to House Calixtus. That entire area was a barren land, having never fully recovered from the scourge of the First Blight. It was a hard land with little vegetation and dangerous wildlife, creating a natural barrier to anyone who might decide to travel anywhere but along the Imperial Highway. Stray too far and you might run afoul of a tribe of ghasts or, so the stories told, wyverns who chose to make their home in the wastes. There were several spots marked on Calix's map with circles and arrows.
"House Calixtus has been in a long-running dispute with House Sarkis of Nevarra over this area of land, one of the few tributaries of the Minater that hasn't spoiled or dried up. It's one of the few semi-fertile areas on the border with water, so it's always been a contested area. Locally they call it the 'Crimson Creek' because of the amount of blood spilled into it over the years. And now, it's going to help us spark a war," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking to himself.
"How?" Cressida asked. "This is a disputed area. It's not uncommon for blood to be spilled. The Magisterium isn't going to be concerned with a skirmish on a barren border."
"I agree," Magister Aurelian chimed in. "No offense intended to House Calixtus, but even though conservatives have been more hawkish about the border situation since the rise of this Inquisition in the south, it would require quite a threat for the Archon to care enough to even consider mobilizing against Nevarra."
"Yes, and we will give the Nevarrans cause," Magister Porenni said. "Calix."
"You probably aren't aware of this, but my mother is from the Van Markam line in Nevarra. While she's unimportant to their succession schemes as they circle around the rotting corpse of Markus Pentaghast, the family does protect its own. We're going to use that against them," Calix said.
"Near summer's end, my mother will unleash a devious plot to usurp House Calixtus' land, by slaughtering the household and opening the door for Sarkis invaders to claim the land. Unfortunately her plot will fall just short of her ambitions when we manage to capture her and expose the plot. She'll be executed as her only son raises an army to march across the border and exact retribution," he said.
"The Venatori will act as aggressors on both sides. First, we will destroy Calixtus, then turn and march into Nevarra and smash Sarkis and continue to drive south until we exact a response from Nevarra," Calix said.
"The Venatori here in Minrathous will drive the Magisterium to action, while our agents in Nevarra will goad the Van Markhams to respond," Magister Porenni took over. "If either side is reluctant, we have several other opportunities to exacerbate the tension, but ideally Calixtus should be enough to launch the war."
There was a moment of quiet at the table as the Decade looked over the map and glanced between the others, before Magister Gallus leaned forward in his seat.
"I'll ask what I assume we're all thinking," he said, turning toward the young man. "You're intending to butcher your own house to see this plot through?"
"They have resisted the calls to join the Venatori, to venerate the Elder One. They're cowards and blasphemers, deserving of death," he said with a malice in his voice that belied a much deeper hatred than just an end justifying the means. "Their deaths will accomplish more for us than they ever would in life."
"What do we aim to gain from spurring a war with Nevarra?" Plinius asked from his seat next to Cassius. It was a direct, solid question that was on his mind as well.
"We put the corpse fuckers to the sword once and for all," Calix answered immediately, again with a simmering hatred that had to have boiled for his entire life although Cassius didn't know the details of why.
"Our strife isn't with Neverra," Plin responded coolly. "Right now it is the Inquisition that needles our efforts beyond our borders. While Nevarra remains on neutral, perhaps friendly relations with the Inquisition, it has otherwise made no overt shows of support. Relations with the Orlesian Chantry have always been complicated, at best, so I'm not surprised they have chosen to keep a comfortable distance."
"I didn't take you for a coward, Plin," Jaxxon interjected with a snort as he looked across the table at his old friend.
"My time in Seheron taught me the importance of using my mind. Passion and hatred and unearned bravado can only take you so far," he answered calmly, gesturing to his missing right arm to silence the critique.
"I agree," Magister Aurelian chimed up, looking down the table and giving a nod to the younger man. "It sounds awfully risky. First, if it's uncovered that we're inciting the violence, the Imperium will not only not move against Nevarra, but will be doubly motivated to… manage the Venatori, which it has been, thus far, mostly disinterested in doing."
"We won't get caught," Calix fumed.
"Perhaps, but I'm not comfortable with staking the future of my house on maybes," Magister Gallus added. "Some of us aren't quite as willing to see our families put to the sword."
"There is no need to worry," Magister Porenni said as he stood from his seat and raised his hands to silence the others and calm Calix before he jumped across the table to claw at Gallus at the barbed quip. "This offensive has been carefully planned. Please don't confuse the ardor of our young compatriot with foolishness. As to the question from Paverii, what we gain is further involvement from the Imperial government. They will see another nation of the Orlesian Chantry mobilized against Tevinter's interest. There is also much chatter about who will rise to the next Divine and rumors that the Inquisition might seek to install Cassandra Pentaghast, which would cause additional concern about the rising influence of Nevarra in Thedas as a whole.
"Our allies and agents are working all of these angles, let me assure you," Porenni said. "The Imperial government is too slow and sleepy to respond when we are fighting this war on a hundred fronts. Every day, we gain new support as those who sit on the sidelines watch the Archon and his allies struggle to address these issues while we offer a strong, confident, bold vision for our homeland."
There were many nodding heads around the table.
"I'm for it," Jaxxon said. "It's about time for us to put Nevarra in the grave, once and for all."
"I am as well," agreed Magister Ceratori, licking her fingers from some bite of something she had been snacking on further up the table. "I place my faith in Magister Porenni."
As they moved around the table, one by one, the members of the Decade voiced their support, until it came to the end of the table and to Cassius. He offered no critique and nodded his head once.
"On behalf of Magister Arrentius, he will offer whatever support is needed. If you provide me with a list of needed provisions, I can have him immediately draw up a supply line," Cassius said and bowed his head respectfully.
As cross chatter took over the table, Magister Porenni slapped his hand against the table once more to silence the group.
"There is one other matter we need to discuss," Porenni said.
He clasped his hands and glanced around the table gravely, his bitter gaze finally coming to rest down the length of the table, directly at Cassius.
