PaIt is but my personal take on how the whole third act of the game could (should?) have gone down, free of obligations to gameplay. It's also merely practice for what I hope to make my profession soon enough, so any kind of feedback, regarding writing style, creative choices and what little changes I had to do to the timeline is warmly welcomed. (Though not being a native speaker, I might have to ask for forgiveness for my english at times)
Without further introduction, here we go, on an unfinished, but hopefully enjoyable read;
Part I
So you ask to
hear of the day a young Ferelden almost became the champion of Kirkwall, eh? Well then lad, let me tell you, for unlike so many that tell the stories these days, I've been there. You've heard them, don't you? Of course you have. Stories of bravery, of a duel that decided the cities fate, but that's not true. Whatever bravery was committed in the Viscounts halls that day, I remember only the crushing injustice. Perhaps you'll understand what happened, once
you've heard it, once you know what really happened.
I mean, of course there's some truth to those stories. Yes, on that fateful, that accursed day, the Qunari left their Compound, rose up to take the city by fire and sword, to make us all slaves of their heathen religion. The horn-heads had me and the other nobles all crowded together in the hall of the keep. That's where the Arishok threw the Viscounts severed head at our feet, spouting insults at the cities collected nobility, from a throne that was not his to claim. Truly, hope was a scarce thing these days. And none of us would've expected it to come from such an odd direction.
It was in the very darkest of moments, when most of us were certain we'd die at qunari hands, that she appeared. Back in the day, I barely knew her. The young heir of the Amell family. There'd been some uproar when she
appeared out of nowhere a few years ago, but noble families come and go in the free marches. What little I knew, painted the young Amell as a scholar, a kind and gentle woman, not that unpopular with Kirkwalls other noble families.
By no means high in standing, compared to many in this room, when she walked into the keep that day, we all stepped aside. Dressed in the battle-torn remains of a once expensive dress, her red hair floating around her
head, she was still barely the height of my shoulders. And yet, none of us, not even the Qunari honor guards dared standing in her way. She walked straight up to the Arishok, with not a shimmer of fear in her eyes. A ridiculous sight by all means, seeing a girl that barely counted more then five foot, with a stature better suited to a
Dalish, face a monstrosity like the Arishok, eight feet of pure muscle, clad in blood-red armor, all with the whole cities nobility, good knights even, standing by, watching, paralyzed by terror.
Whatever we felt, to make way for the girl so easily, the Arishok as brutish a creature as he was, must've sensed it as well. He spoke up, and she answered. A scholar indeed, for few humans are fluently proficient in the tongue of the Qun. For a few heartbeats, it could've been mistaken for a calm conversation, even with all the chaos around us.
Then one of the qunari in the room started screaming. The one to interrupt was an even worse atrocity to the eye then the Arishok himself, clad in chains, rather then armor, his face, thank the maker, hidden behind a golden mask. From where I stood, I could make out but a single clear word.
Saarebaas.
What happened next, happened too fast for any of us, including the Qunari, to react. The Qun warriors next to the stairs tried to interfere, their crude blades at the ready, yet it took but a single movement of the young Amells hand, to send both of them to the ground, their spines snapped like twigs. Their bodies hadn't even touched the paved floor, when a bolt of lightning, brighter then the sun the make gave us, ended the chained Qunaris life. The Arishok himself at least managed to unsheathe his giant Sword, before the young noblewoman turned her fearsome powers against him. The first bolt of blue fire seared the flesh of his sword arm, and sent the
blade flying. The second spell hit the Arishok square in the chest, and lifted the giant of his feet, sent his lifeless body crashing into the Viscounts throne, the usurper as dead as the righteous occupant of the chair.
For a moment, silence fell onto the hall, as Lady Amell turned around to face the remaining Qunari, her eyes blistering with magic, and blue flames in her palm. Apostate or not, that moment every single one of the gathered nobles would have testified that the maker himself put her in this room. A true champion of Kirkwall. A prophet
of the makers grace.
Until the halls doors where opened anew. Until we realized, that the glare in her eyes was no longer the fury of the righteous, but sheer panic and graceless terror. To the metal sound of armor in motion, the templars had arrived. Over a dozen of them, in shining armor, their blades unsheathed, led by Lady Meredith, their infamous knight-commander. None of them even took note of the few Qunari left in the room. Slowly, silent except for the noise of their metal garments, they passed the ranks of the nobles, and started moving up to the stairs.
All the majesty, all the power that lady Amell had shown just heartbeats ago had vanished. She was no longer the all powerful mage, no longer a champion. Just an apostate girl cornered by templars with nowhere to run, frightened to death. And yet, the flames in her hands were still burning, proof of her destructive powers, a silent
reminder that this could only end one way.
And yet again, the girl left us all surprised and speechless. I myself was certain, she'd try to force her way out, but she simply shook her head, and lowered her arms. The flames vanished. It was only much later, that I found that lady Amell had a younger sister in the circle, that violence here, would have put her next of kin in harms way. Back in that moment, I was left with nothing but bafflement. Bafflement, and an overwhelming sense, that what was in
motion here, wasn't right. I saw her close her eyes, saw her accept the cruelty of fate, saw her fall onto her knees, with silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
It was as hard to accept that day, as it is for me to talk to you about it now. Whenever I think back to that day, I feel like I should have interfered. Could it truly be the will of the maker, that being dragged off to the gallows like a dangerous criminal was the only reward, the bravest of Kirkwalls defenders should receive?
Perhaps things would have happened otherwise, if I, or any of the other noblemen and women would have dared to speak up that day. But we didn't. We stood silently, watching as the templars dragged Kirkwalls champion away. Perhaps our cowardice is what made everything that's happened in the past four years possible.
Inevitable even. You my friend, be the judge.
-Taken from
the memoirs of Friedrich of Reinhardt, 9:56 Dragon
Part II
Pathetic. Simply pathetic. Here I am, emptying my soul onto paper, the third time now, like some noble girl complaining about love sickness. But if, by some cruel joke of fate, these lines eventually find their way into the hands of a willing reader, do not judge me too harshly. For what I'm forced to witness is to much for a single
soul to bear, yet speaking up insight these walls might well cost me more then just position and status.
I know full well what magic can do, what suffering this most terrible among the makers curses brings with it. My father was an apostate, fled from the circle before I was born. And while I myself was lucky enough to escape the makers wrath, his accursed blood has been inherited to both my sisters. It would be unfair, to blame my father
for me taking up the shield of a templar, even though even my namesake was one. My father was a good man. A good man, taken from us far too early. But still, I cannot deny, that the curse of magic has certainly left it's mark on my life, perhaps a mark greater then even the blight that drove us from our home in Lothering.
I'll admit, in more then one night I've lain sleepless, cursing the fact that I too payed the price for something I myself had nothing to do with. The life of an apostate isn't easy, and neither is escaping the templars. I'll even admit, I myself might have cast more complains about our fate, then either of my sisters ever have. First
of all, I've seen just how fearsome a curse magic is, in the hand of those able and willing to use it. I saw the powers that my sisters unleashed on the darkspawn, when we ran from the blight. Maker, even when that power saved my life, it is more, way more power then any mortal should wield. My father was a good man, a mage that showed remarkable restraint for all his life, where any lesser man would have long used such powers for personal gain. Magic is to server man, never to rule over him. Such is what Andraste the prophet set in
stone as the first law of magic. Few mages understand that, but my father did, and for what it's worth, he passed that legacy on to his daughters. In the past few years, since I finally decided to join the templars, since I finally took my fate into my own hands, I've seen what magic does, what it really does. What it does, when wielded by those that do not posses the honor of my father, or kind hearts of my sisters. As a matter of fact, I've never seen a mage outside the circles bounds, that bowed to the makers will, that was not part of my family. And who knows, if I am a fair judge of their behavior, if that's not what everyone would think about a mage they shared their crib with. Despite what my father might have said, the circle is a good thing. It's a necessity. Even Bethany saw that, when she surrendered herself to the circle three year ago. But, maker forgive me, I am starting to doubt.
Things haven't exactly been kindly between me and my elder sister. Not since our father died. Now I know what she did, how she tried to replace him with all her might. Something like that isn't easy to accept for a younger brother. It is only now, that I know what burden she was carrying, all this time. Now that this burden, trying to
defend your family, and to protect it in times as cruel as these, has fallen to me. When I first heard she was eventually discovered, that both my sisters were now part of the circle, I did not even seek her out. I didn't, until yesterday. A little over a month, after the Qunari uprising, when Kirkwall just so settled down again, our mother
fell prey to a bloodmage, a despicable creature, dwelling in the sewers, kidnapping women as mere resources for his crooked rituals. Eventually, he was discovered, eventually the templars brought him down, even if it came at the cost of good lives. Regardless, they came too late to make a difference for our mothers fate.
Attending the funeral, between uncle Gamlens hypocrisy and Bethanys weeping was bad enough. But my elder sister wasn't even there. Of course she wasn't. I could, no I should have known that she did not stay absent voluntarily, that the rules of the circle strictly prohibit an apostate brought in so recently to leave the gallows
walls. But part of me, perhaps the part that could not accept loosing another parent so soon, wanted to lay the blame at my sisters feet. For getting caught even, for not being there when mother needed protection. Like I layed blame at my sisters feet so often, over the past few years, whenever I myself failed to escape from the clutches
of misfortune.
Even though it just happened yesterday, right now I am unable to tell, what I expected to see, when I pushed open the door to my sisters cell. The same sister mind you, that even after I joined the templars, managed to grab all the glory for herself. The same person, that singlehandedly slew the Arishok, while I was just another templar, fighting Qunari in the streets. The same person, that pushed me out of harms way, to take on an ogre all by herself. Whatever I expected to see, it will have been far from the truth, in all it's heart wrangling cruelty. I entered the wing where they keep the dangerous, and the recently caught apostates for the first time that day. To find my sister in a cell, of nine square foot at most, nothing in it but a small chest and bed, bare walls and a single window. Or rather, discovering a person only barely reminiscent of my sister. The hair a right mess, the eyes almost as red, the cheeks hollow and the skin pale as virgin snow. I dare not fathom, what kind of experience, what kind of abuse brought her, no broke her down to such a state.
Maker, I've cursed her countless times for making me feel helpless, for being able where I was not. But never in my life, not in the face of the maleficar, not in the face of darkspawn have I felt as helpless as in that very moment, holding my sister in my arms. The sister that had not shed a single tear since father died, sobbing without a single trace of dignity left.
Maker, I know how often I prayed for the opportunity, to snatch the duty of leading, of protecting the family back from her. But not like this. It was never supposed to be like this.
Maker preserve us all, I am starting to doubt.
-Taken from
“Redemption of a Templar” by Ser Carver Hawke, first published
9:41 Dragon, declared heretic by the chantry 9:42 Dragon
Part III
To the attention of her Grace, the grand Cleric;
I have finally been permitted the inspection, that your Grace requested a few month back, on the treatment of Lady Amell, and the overall circumstances of the state the Circle is in. As you are well aware, the number of formal complaints from both the circle mages, and from civilians, has greatly risen over the past few years. Especially regarding the case of young lady Amell, and the most unusual events that led to her capture, parts of the nobility have been in outright uproar. With the city pretty much under martial law, and without a Viscount, it was most unfortunate how things went down. In fact, it has come to our attention that some of the more daring among the nobles seek to award Lady Amell with the title of “Champion of Kirkwall”. With the rising support for such claims in mind, the necessity to treat her like any other equally dangerous apostate, hasnot quite served to calm the waves.
As such, I am more then happy to report that now that the year of quarantine has passed, she will soon be presentable to the public, and that any claims of abuses or outright torture within the circles halls, are entirely unreasonable, and can be dismissed as such.
When I was finally permitted to pay her a visit, I found Lady Amell in one of the regular two-bed dormitories that make for the majority of the accommodations in the circle. In fact, in an usual display of kindness, the the Knight Commander has granted permission for Lady Amell to share said dormitory with her sister.
(On that note your Grace, let me repeat that the entirety of this incident could have been avoided, if the templars had not faltered in their vigilance in the first place. When Lady Bethany Hawke was discovered in Kirkwall four years ago, the daughter of an Apostate escaped from this very circle no less, a thorough investigation of her remaining relatives would have been in order. I have time and time again proposed to have those templars in charge of her arrest are to be held responsible for the mess that their failure has caused.)
Regardless, I am most pleased to report, that I found Lady Amell in a weakened, but thoroughly healthy state. While I did not wish to embarrass her overly in front of the two templar guards present at the time, a brief inspection did not turn up any signs of physical violence whatsoever. At the very worst, she was tired out, if fully conscious, when I spoke to her. I have been assured, that a certain deprivation of sleep, as harsh as it might appear, is necessary during the initial quarantine, to prevent possible maleficar from conversing with creatures from beyond the veil in their dreams.
If pressed for a prognosis, I would hardly assume that she poses any further risk for the security of both the circle and the public. As lacking as as their ability might be at times, throughout the inspection I have found the templars to be not only vigilant, but fully capable of upholding uncompromised security within the circles walls. Additionally, Lady Amell herself, who appeared calm and entirely reasonable during the course of the interview, explicitly expressed any lack of incentive to leave the circle, now that both her siblings reside here in one way or another.
If I was to propose a course of action, I would advice your Grace to give Lady Amell a week or two of time to recover, and then formally request her to be made part of the mages delegation that take part in the official counsels. Presenting her to the public as soon as she has fully recovered from quarantine is likely to calm some of the unrest, currently caused by the nobility.
I remain your humble servant
Mother Claire
-A letter
to Grand Cleric Elthina, written by a revered mother 9:36 Dragon,
retrieved after the retaking of Kirkwall 9:42 Dragon
Modifié par Lithuasil, 21 mars 2011 - 02:05 .
Retour en haut
