Where Allegiances Lie [Kyre & The Intrepid Wanderer]

[Kyre]

A heavy tension saturated Thedas. The rumours had been slow at first, whispers of a clash between the Templars and the Circle within the fortifications of Kirkwall, a disagreement between the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter. This was nothing new, the two factions had a tenuous relationship at best all across the continent with each mistrusting the intentions and actions of the other. However, as more and more information began to filter from the isolated City of Chains, the balance of power began to shift and all of Thedas was suddenly plunged into chaos.

The citizens and the Chantry rose up in rage at the murder of a beloved Grand Cleric at the hands of an apostate, while the mages of the Circle cried out in horror at the slaughter that had been perpetrated under Knight-Commander Meredith’s command. As the Templars tightened their grasp upon the Circle in reflex, those within grew restless and uneasy. First one and then another; Circles all across Thedas began to rebel, throwing off the metaphorical chains that bound them and destroying hundreds upon hundreds of phylacteries in the process. Many perished on both sides in the initial struggles, followed by bands of apostates fleeing across the continent or turning their rage upon the Chantry and the citizens of Thedas, pursued by equally zealous Templars.

What few of the Circles still stood intact were heavily guarded, the Right of Annulment quick to be mentioned at even the slightest hint of dissention amongst the mages within. Men and women, girls and boys were killed for as little as uttering their displeasure at the current circumstances, classes were all but cancelled and the Templars were forever on patrol – constantly present, ever watchful.

Alisia suppressed a shudder as she hugged a heavy tome to her chest and quickened her steps, carrying herself down the corridor and closer to the library as she fought to ignore the heavy weight of a Templar’s gaze upon her back. Perhaps she should have stayed within the dorm, at least there she had the company of her fellow mages and the sound of hushed conversation to take the edge off the ominous sense of foreboding that engulfed the tower-like fortress. The corridors, on the other hand, were deserted but for the patrolling suits of armour that seemed suddenly so devoid of human feeling, equipped only with swords and suspicious glares.

Granted, the Circle had always felt like a cage to the young magess, but at least before she had been able to coax a smile from some of them or even hold a brief yet pleasant conversation. Now all she received was cold stares and stern faces. A sudden pang of homesickness rose up within her, a swift feeling of terror rushing through her as she found herself wondering if her family were safe – not that she had seen them in years.

She had been eight years old when the first signs of her magic began to show. Dark haired and fair skinned, she had been a happy child – cautious and curious as many her age were, unaware of how drastically her life was soon to change. It had not been long after that she had been brought to the Circle where she had remained ever since. Life had been difficult, the ache of being separated from her own blood-relatives and the isolation from all else had been too much to bear at times. As a child Alisia had wept, huddled beneath the blankets in the dead of night and cursing the magic that set her so far apart from everyone else. But crying would change nothing and, as she grew older, she did her best to make the most of her situation.

Wary of her own power, she had thrown herself into her studies, anxious to learn and train. While the Templars had frightened her at first, she had swiftly come to realise that they were not so different as the ones they guarded and did her best to give them little reason to fear her – quick to smile and make polite conversation whenever the opportunity presented itself. If she was to be a prisoner, Alisia hoped she could at least be friends with her jailers. It had worked until the war broke out, now she was just another mage, as untrustworthy and quick to turn to blood magic as the next.

Setting a hand to the smooth wooden door, the young woman stepped into Circle’s library only to pause just within. The room stretched high above her head, the walls covered with bookcases that covered from floor to ceiling, full to collapsing with books of varying ages and conditions. Small groups of apprentices and mages sat clustered around tables, talking in whispers while a number of Templars stood stoically in various places throughout. In the centre, surrounded by the multitude of books, was a large desk behind which a grey haired man sat, almost entirely concealed by stacks of tomes teetering perilously high. He smiled as Alisia approached, letting his glasses fall to hang from a piece of string about his neck as he held out a hand for the book she offered over. Squinting at the title, he chuckled gently.

“I will have no more books left for you at this rate, my dear.”

 

[The Intrepid Wanderer]

No Templar with an ounce of sense could look at what was going on outside the walls of their Circle and not realize the dangers.

Not just from outside, but from within their own walls. Mages were becoming increasingly restless as time passed. Under the Knight-Commander's order, the Circle's Templars had begun to crack down on the mages within the Circle. Threats of Tranquility and Annulment were made every time mages began to seem restless, Tempalrs roamed the halls, and only the most essential of classes (those teaching a mage to resist the influences of a demon) were still continued. Harrowings had decreased in a seeming direct proportion to the number of Tranquil mages who walked the halls. It was something that gave even the most zealous of Templars a moment of pause. So many mages now were just simply refusing to partake in their Harrowings, and so many of those who did now so often fell to the influences of the demon summoned to face them.

The halls were virtually empty these days, Darryn realized, with most of the mages seeking the comfort of their own within the confines of the dorms. Those rooms were some of the few where one could expect to be reasonably concealed from the prying eyes of the Templars, though there were always guards just beyond the door. Only the Templars such as the Knight-Lieutenant himself could be seen in the halls. It wasn't that the mages were not allowed in to the halls of the Circle. No, the First Enchanter had been able to convince the Knight-Commander to avoid a full restriction on the mages. Even though he was a Templar, Darryn had his own reasons for being glad that the mages were still free to walk within the confines of the Circle itself.

Standing at a stout 6'2, the Fereldan-born Knight-Lieutenant stood out in an awkward way physically in comparison to his fellows. He was easily taller than any of them, even the Knight-Commander. He was so tall and the Maker had seen fit to grace the "dog-lord" with broad enough shoulders that his peers often joked that, were he to simply stick a pair of horns to his head, then he might very well pass as a Qunari. Dark red hair was kept tied back in to a pony tail that would barely grace the very base of his neck and could still be tucked well under the helmet that he had been issued with his armor. He was handsome, though not the most handsome of the Templars, but by no means some ugly thing. A smooth, well-shaved jaw-line, and mercury-silver eyes tinged with the blue of a lyrium addict meant that he was a somewhat attractive man. Physical stature betrayed his strength, though not so clearly as the massive black-bladed greatsword he carried across his back.

Darryn came from nobility as well -- in a sense. His father was a minor Teyrn in southern Ferelden, near the Wilds, or at least that was the rumor. It was said that he was the love-child of the Teyrn and a young maid who attended to the estate. He was in the orphanage before he had ever even been able to meet the man, only discovering the story later on in life when he asked around at the orphanage where he was raised for the first few years. He had fallen in to the discipline of the training, taking solace in it at a young age when he had felt he had nothing else, and Darryn had quickly proven himself capable among his peers. He began to learn and master the skills such as Cleansing, or other abilities intended to combat rogue mages. That wasn't to say he was some sort of incredible prodigy, but he was good enough that the Mother took notice of him when it came time to decide which of the trainees were fully ready to take their vows.

Reporting to the Circle, lyrium dust flowing through his veins, he had been given his posting, and had set to work immediately trying to do his best. At first his responsibilities were simple things, such as guarding the stock room, or perhaps one of the many spots along the halls where Templars now junior to him these days stood in vigilant watch. As he began to prove himself, he was given more responsibilities. For example, one which he no longer felt proud of in these recent times of strife, was to be one of the guards for mages' Harrowings. There he saw more than his fair share of successes, and struck down an only marginally smaller number of abominations when a mage failed to resist the temptations of a demon. But it was there, in the Harrowing Hall, where the man-still-a-boy had seen her. A girl that left him starstruck with the way she handled herself under stress. She left him absolutely tongue-tied.

Though one might question just how a woman managed this.

As he walked the hall, Darryn himself pondered it. The reason that he was so frozen was not as much in who she was as what she was. Were it just some Templar of equal or slightly lesser rank, the issue would have been quickly solvable for him. He would have simply approached the woman, asked if she might in fact be interested in him, and it would go from there. Yet it was never so easy, he thought, as blue-stained silver eyes paid little attention to his actual surroundings. No, the Maker had an ever shifting plan, and a very wicked sense of humor, he mused. Out of the many women who could have stolen the Knight-Lieutenant's heart, why did it have to be that one? He tried, oh the Maker knew he tried, to excuse it as nothing more than a pointless child-like crush, but that rarely did anything more than hold off the feelings for a week or less.

He was infuriated.

He was confused.

He was -- nearly running in to her.

Darryn had been heading for the Circle library, intent on . . . some goal. However as he suddenly brought himself to a sudden stop in the doorway, several important thought processes were brought to an equally sudden stop when he realized just who it was that he had nearly ran in to on his way to the front desk. His face, looking down at her, was a poor mask of mild friendly happiness as he smiled, and his only saving grace came from the fact that she either didn't see through it -- or she was just far too polite to actually mention it. He rubbed at the back of his neck for a moment, looking at her.

"Oh, Alisia." It took all the Lieutenant's will not to stutter like a school-boy, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, smooth." He thought to himself, "Ask your crush, the studious mage, what she's doing in the Circle library. Maker, am I bad at this."

 

[Kyre]

Alisia lingered at the front desk for a time, sharing idle conversation with the elderly mage behind it and seeking his recommendation on what she should read next. Senior Enchanter Beaufort was a thin, soft spoken soul who treated most he came into contact with as if they were his grandchild - mage and Templar alike. He had been a powerful arcane mage in his time, however, as age crept up on him, he had grown increasingly more forgetful and fragile which had resulted in his taking up the position of Library Master, a task he seemed to enjoy a great deal. The young magess had grown rather fond of the old man and her interest in reading had allowed a firm friendship to develop between the two.

She had just bid him goodbye and turned to leave when she found herself face to chest with a broad, armoured Templar. Alisia felt her heart surge within her chest, a coil of terror begin to wind itself deep within her stomach, until she lifted her gaze to find a familiar face peering down at her. Darryn. The soft sigh of relief was audible, but only between them as a small smile crept across her lips. Darryn was now one of the only Templars that looked upon her with any familiarity, let alone take the time to address her by name. Granted, he was as duty bound as the rest of them to carry out his orders, but Alisia was sure she felt something gentle about him - it was enough to calm her anxiety at least.

Oval eyes set with irises of jade, flecked with gold, glanced up at him for a moment to meet his gaze before drifting away to scan their surroundings. Her long raven black hair hung loose about her shoulders, the front-most strands braided and tied behind her head to prevent the silky tresses from falling in front of her face. Like a number of the mages locked within the Circle, her skin was pale, starved of the sunlight that the free citizens of Thedas enjoyed. Her complexion spoke of her youth, while the soft curves hidden beneath her robe spoke of a woman's body beneath.

The library had grown quieter than usual, the small clusters of mages pausing their conversations in anticipating of something happening. Their expectancy sent Alisia's heart to racing again, she hadn't done anything to warrant the Templars' particular attention; she had not expressed her unease at the manner in which they were being treated, did not participate in the whispered conversations that took place in the dorms at the dead of the night. She was careful that her choice of reading material would not alarm anyone either, steering clear of any subject that could be linked with maleficence. Darryn's question did little to abate her concerns, as the raven haired girl wondered what reasons there were that meant she couldn't be here.

Beaufort paused in lifting his glasses back onto his nose, glancing between the two as they stood their anxiously, looking for the right words. He grunted lightly, muttering something indiscernible before disappearing back behind his stacks of books.

"I was just returning a book I had just finished reading, I thought perhaps someone else might enjoy it." Alisia finally managed to bring herself to speak, glance back up at the Templar with a faltering smile, "Am I allowed to be here? No one issued any instructions that we were to stay in the dorms..."

 

[The Intrepid Wanderer]

Darryn froze.

There she was, a mere foot away at most, and separated only by the heavy steel plate across his chest. She was so -- amazing. One of the fastest Harrowings in the last twenty years of this Circle's history, a quickly rising student, the prized pupil of more than one Senior Enchanter's class, and before these troubles she was the name whispered among some of the younger children brought to the Circle as who they wanted to be like some day. She was beautiful, with near-ivory skin virtually untouched by the light of the sun, the body of a woman, the face of youth, and the graces of a lady. She just -- was. There was no real way to quantify everything about her in a mere few words. That would be akin to quantifying, "the elves are a shorty, pointy-eared people who excel at poverty".

And then there was Darryn.

Six foot tall, lyrium addicted, bull of a man. Yet he had his redeeming qualities. He was the youngest Knight-Lieutenant in the last fifteen year's of the Circle, a fact impressed upon him by Knight-Commander Andreev when he had been promoted. He was a virtual master of the Cleansing Aura, though that was hardly a talent that a mage might find very impressive. Outside of that, though? He was like a candle held to a forest fire. His complexion was, if only just, more worn than that of the young woman beside him, and his eyes glowed with the lyrium that kept each Templar zealously bound to the Chantry. He had no Knight-Captain doting over his achievements like a proud parent, no impressive aptitude for anything outside of the Cleansing Aura, and the even less impressive art of swinging a massive broadsword. And certainly none of the young children in the tower ever whispered to each other their dreams of being like him, the friendly giant who always secreted them extra sweets away from the watchful eyes of their caretakers.

What's more, he was at a loss for words.

But far too stubborn to stop trying to speak.

At her words, his face turned pale, and he suddenly raised his hands in front of his chest as if trying to wave away any accusation the likes of which she was implying, "No, no no no. Nothing like that."

He paused for a moment, a school boy trying to find his words in front of her.

"I was just, uh --" "-- thinking about you like a fool, because I've got a stupid little, huge crush on you, so I wasn't paying attention until I saw you." "-- looking for a book!" He said, setting eyes on the nearest impressively thick-looking tome resting upon the nearby stacks, and grabbing it without thought to the title, "Yep! Here for a book! You know me, I just love to read." Yeah, nice and depressingly thick. Girls liked guys with brains, right?

The fake smile was a terrible cover for the nervous boy hidden beneath. The years in the orphanage and throughout training had done him many favors. Dealing with attractive women wasn't one of them.

"So, um." The tome tucked under one arm looking like a pamphlet in comparison to it's bearer, "I was just wondering if, uh, have you --" "-- ever considered the idea of having a relationship with a Templar? Because he must have called the Maker a foul name to find he has a crush on you." "-- been having a good day?"

Of note, on his file was a commendation for notable bravery. Apparently this was false when dealing with the fairer sex.

 

[Kyre]

The young woman before him visibly relaxed as he hurried to ease her concerns, the tension dissipating from her posture and expression, as her smile took on a far warmer form. "Oh, good." It was a great relief to hear that her one pleasure in this world had not been taken from her - if she were confined to her dorm with nothing to read or do Alisia was quite sure she would go utterly mad. Reading calmed her and focused her mind on something other than her circumstances, it kept her sane, and a sane mage tended to live a lot longer than an insane one.

Her gaze fell to rest upon the book that was suddenly plucked from its place, quick enough to spy the title of the ominous looking tome. The Alchemical Properties of Ferelden's Fauna. An interesting read, if one had the patience for it, and probably quite useful if one were to roam the forests and plains of Thedas. Alisia had read a portion of that very tome, for academic reasons rather than personal interest - it had aided her well in her progression through alchemy classes. However, she did find herself curious as to why Darryn would have an interest in it - perhaps someone was ill. "Oh, lucky you found it so quickly. I'm certain the Senior Enchanter has changed the cataloguing system half a dozen times by now."

A soft laugh followed this observation, light and surprisingly cheerful considering the current circumstances. She liked Darryn. Often she had found herself wondering what their conversations would be like if they ever had the opportunity to talk alone and perhaps even beyond the restrictive walls of the Circle. If she wasn't a mage and he a Templar, would anything be different? Now, more than ever, the gulf between their opposing occupations seemed vast. A mage being kind to a Templar, and vice versa, could easily be construed poorly by both sides - either as a sign of betrayal or trickery.

His question drew her out of her thoughts suddenly, eyelids fluttering in a succession of brief blinks before her mind actually processed what he had said. Had she had a good day? It was hard to say truthfully for all the days seemed to blend into one, each the same as the last. There was also that heavy sense of unease that had been hanging around her for days now; did anyone else feel it? The muttered conversations that stretched late into the night seemed to draw a great number of whispered voices, more and more shadows gathering to express their anger, frustration and fear. Two more of their own had been taken last night, dragged away by the Templars and never returned.

"Yes, a good day - considering the circumstances." Alisia chose a diplomatic answer, wary of the eyes and ears that watched and listened nearby. "And with you? Have you heard any news from the other Circles?" It was a risk to ask, perhaps, but the knowledge of her kind killing and being killed weighed heavily upon the young woman. All it took was one spark, one instigator amongst the masses and a whole fortress of souls could be sentenced to death. In the face of death or being made Tranquil, how many had turned to the demons she feared so greatly? How many good people had lost themselves to darkness?

 

[The Intrepid Wanderer]

The other Circles? If ever there was a thought to sober the mind of even the love-struck Templar, that was it. His Templar brothers fighting an almost impossible war against the potential corruption of mages. Never had there been a job less suited for those who enjoyed marks of progress and success. All you had to your name at the end of a long career was a lyrium-addled mind and a retirement to Val Royaux, with a career of killing young children not even old enough to shave, or wish for marriage. And the current turmoil was not making any Templar's job easier. Brow furrowed, Darryn had to mentally go through the list. There were at least fourteen Circles not counting those in the Imperium, all of which he had memorized, and he had to go through the list as he knew it with the most recent news taken in to account. There was the Rivaini Circle, Val Royaux, their own, the Circle Tower in Fereldan recently rebuilt, and . . . Maker be damned, the Knight-Lieutenant found himself at a total loss for any others. The whole of Thedas was in chaos and the Templars here seemed barely able to hold control at times.

"They are . . ." He bit his bottom lip, an old nervous habit of childhood that had never really left him, "Shall we walk?" He asked suddenly, motioning behind him to the door as he stepped to the side for her.

Then he started for the door, rather anxious to leave the library. The Circle had always been divided in a manner akin to opposing gangs, now more than ever. Each side had their own places, their "safe havens" where they could be expected to find solace amongst their peers. The Circle Chantry and their barracks were the preferred areas for the Templars: a place to relax among their fellows. To the mages it was the classrooms, their quarters, and -- the library. Under normal circumstances, if it had been almost any other mage asking him that question he would have dismissed them on the spot, but this was Alisia. She wasn't part of some dark or ulterior motive. But the library was not the place for a Templar to discuss such things. The halls were a relatively safe "neutral ground" for him to talk with her about the situation. A place where a Templar and a mage conversing would not necessarily be seen as too out of the ordinary within the Circle.

Stepping through the door, tome still under arm, he waited for Alisia to join him, and started down the hall in the direction of the mages' quarters. A junior Templar would have been seen under a different light, marred with a badge of shame for seeming to converse with a mage so casually during such times as these, but none of the junior-ranked Templars standing at points throughout the halls would ever think to question the actions of one of the eight Knight-Lieutenants of the Circle. As far as they knew, he might have been trying to discover signs of a conspiracy, or a plot of rebellion. At least had it been any other mage besides Alisia. Even the ever wary and suspicious Knight-Commander Andreev was kept from suspecting her by remarks from Knight-Captain Grenier's assurances of innocence. Most of that had to do with her behavior. It was why Darryn trusted her, knowing that he wasn't soon to be lured in to a meeting of blood mages waiting to spring a trap upon him, or unknowingly giving information to mages hoping to flee the Circle. She was a shining mark of what a mage should be. Senior Enchanter was not a title too many years off in her future if he understood anything about mage politics, he imagined. Though he really didn't know.

A quick glance over an armored shoulder as he walked to ensure they weren't pursued and he look down at the mage walking with him.

"The Circle's are not doing well, Alisia, I won't lie. Frankly, the Knight-Commander fears the spread of corruption among our mages, and I don't know whether or not he is right to believe so. It wouldn't be difficult to imagine in these times that any mage might see the Circle as some oppressing cruelty on them." He shook his head, "Though that's not to say I condone the threats of Tranquility made against any mage who dares to complain about harsh conditions. Magic is a curse but not a guarantee of foul deeds by those who bare it." He had begun to look down the hall again as they walked, but now looked to Alisia again, "It is good to see that you, for example, are staying away from the trouble. I've heard talk of dark whispers at night and it concerns me."

He let out a heavy sigh as they walked, as if trying to come to terms with some unpleasant truth.

"I am just a simple man. The troubles we face are not something I feel very well accustomed to. How about you, Alisia? Have you heard anything? Or has anybody tried to invite or pressure you in to any sort of meetings or groups?"

Though on friendly terms with her, being his crush or not, they still had their stations. He was a Templar and she was a mage, his charge. Yet at the same time the meaning behind his asking was different of that than might have come from other members of the Order. They would have asked out of a suspicious notion against the mage herself. Darryn asked out of a legitimate concern. The Tranquil, those they passed in the hall, who enchanted items sold or used by the Circle, and who manned the storeroom were unnerving for Darryn. He wasn't particularly fond of seeing anything like that being considered for Alisia. So duty bound him and spared not even the likes of one of the more promising young mages of the Circle from the Templars' vigilant eyes.

 

[Kyre]

She regretted asking the question almost as soon as she had uttered it, watching his expression grow solemn made Alisia suddenly feel guilty. Lifting a hand to rub at her arm, she spared another glance about the Library, noting that most had returned to their hushed conversations or their browsing of the many many bookcases. As for the answer, well she feared there would be little good news to share, though she never gave up hope that something might have changed.

His invitation drew her attention sharply back toward him, eyes a little wide as she stared up at him for a few moments before nodding gently. Turning back toward the front desk, she uttered a hushed farewell to the old man seated behind it before following Darryn back out into the hallway, guiding the door shut behind her so that it wouldn't bang. Pale jade eyes flickered down the length of the corridor, at least as far as the curve of the tower allowed, recalling how closely she had been watched when last she passed down this way. The Templar at her side did much to calm any unease she might have been feeling though.

Falling into step at Darryn's side, she did her best to keep pace with him, having to take a couple quick steps to match his lengthier stride. Her gaze fell to the thinly carpeted floor as she listened to him speak. Truthfully, she had not expected an answer to her question, but as he spoke she found herself disheartened by the information he shared. The war was a troublesome issue for the young woman, who found herself torn in many directions when it came to taking sides. She could understand the desperation which drove her fellow mages to action, the anger at being constantly - and often unfairly - judged and treated with suspicion, the isolation of their cloistered existence brought. Not that this meant she agreed with those that gave in to the whims of the demons of the fade.

Magic is a curse. The matter of fact manner in which Darryn uttered that statement struck her like a blow to the face. All her life she had been told this; that she was cursed, not to be trusted, a risk and a liability. While she strived to excel in her studies, within she loathed her magic, hated that it made her different, that it caused others to fear her before they even knew her. What had she done to cause the Maker to punish her so? Or could it be that everyone else was wrong? Could magic be a gift just like any other favourable attribute, a gift that could be misused just as easily as any other form of power?

Alisia's chin dipped a little further, weighed down by the sea of thoughts that washed against an already weary mind. She remained quiet for a time, even after he had directed a number of questions toward her. Such questions had to be answered with care, her words could easily condemn herself or others. "For the most part people are afraid, especially the younger ones. They fear for their families, they fear for their own lives. Some simply stay in the dorms, terrified that if they are seen even speaking to someone of suspicion they condemn themselves." There had been whispers of revolt, some speaking of more than just their fear that left Alisia sleepless and jumpy.

"No one has approached me, I think I've made it clear to most that I won't stand for any talk of trouble and I do my best to keep the younger ones from being drawn in to such conversations. People are afraid, Darryn. The Templars are quick to turn to execution or Tranquillity at even the slightest hint of unease, most of us are afraid that at any moment the doors will burst open and we will all be put to your swords." Alisia shuddered, recalling many nightmares she had had of just such an occurrence.

 

[The Intrepid Wanderer]

To say