Knight-Commander Meredith was not known for her patience, especially not to her subordinates who questioned her orders.
“I had just told you a few minutes before, Ser Samson. Let me repeat this once again if your ears had failed you: starting today, you are going to share your quarter with another Templar coming from Ferelden. He will arrive later this evening. I expect you to clean your mess on his side of the room by the time he arrives.”
Samson was not thrilled. As one of the more senior Templars at the Gallows, he had managed to keep his normally two-person room for himself up to today. In fact, there were even numerous empty rooms at the Templar’s Quarter. Giving the story of how thin the Veil is in Kirkwall and all the swarming apostates running freely at the gutters, it was a wonder how Kirkwall’s Templar Order had been having difficulties on recruitment to bolster their ranks. The Gallows’ Templar Quarter had once been home to nearly five hundreds Templars. Now more than half had been empty. Yet, the number of mages in Kirkwall was getting larger each day.
“But why? I mean, Knight-Commander, with all due respect, there are still plenty of empty rooms in the Templar Quarter.” Gulping hard, Samson tried to argue. He had not anticipated this when the Knight-Commander had summoned him.
Knight-Commander Meredith’s icy blue eyes scanned him coldly for a few second from behind her desk. “I want you to keep an eye on this young man and help him to level out. He is one of the survivors of Kinloch Hold’s incident a few months back. His Knight-Commander wrote to me, asking me to take him in for a few years at least. Apparently the boy had been tortured quite badly by mages and even after three months rest at Greenfell Chantry, Greagoir felt that it is not a wise decision to have him watch over the Ferelden mages. Apparently this young man had taken a very arduous zeal on his duty and hard on punishing every mages who break the slightest rules as a kind of revenge toward people who had wronged him. I respect Greagoir very much and I will do as he asked me to, he is a man who knows his duty. However if I was in his place, I would annul Kinloch Hold at the first sight of abomination running freely in the corridor.” She added the last sentence under her breath, but loud enough for Samson to hear.
Samson stood nervously. He had heard about the incident that happened in Ferelden six month earlier. The Circle Tower there was run over by abominations and blood mages, killing everyone who tried to resist their ways, mages and Templars alike. Nearly a hundred Templars and as many mages were killed. Few survived the incident, and tales of their ordeals had reached the ears of every Templars in southern Thedas. If this newcomer was as close as Meredith’s description, this will make his life harder. Much harder.
“You are one of the more senior Templars around here, Ser Samson. And I take it that your view of mages is quite… moderate to say the least. I expect you to help him adjusting to his new life here.” Meredith’s assessment turned Samson’s blood to ice. Damn, she knew it! Samson did his best not to look guilty in front of Meredith.
She must not know his secret… Or it will be the end of him. But all Knight-Commander Meredith say was “Dismissed!” in her stern demeanor.
***
Entering his own quarter, Samson sighed heavily. Slowly, he started to clean up the room for the newcomer. He had not much possession, like all Templars, and his room was relatively clean. But this work allowed his mind to wander and try to find solutions to his immediate problems, like…
“Maddox! What are you doing here?” Samson hissed loudly at the sight of the mage appearing from the corner. Maddox grinned at his friend. He always loved to appear at the most uncanny times everywhere in the Gallows. If ever Samson did not know about Maddox’s enormous knowledge of the Gallow’s secret passages, he would swear that this man was a ghost, able to appear from what seemed to be thick walls and thin airs.
“Just like the usual, my friend. There’s something I wish to discuss with you.” Maddox kept grinning. He was always a gleeful one.
Before Samson could reply, someone was knocking at his door.
“You must not be here now! Meredith’s giving me a roommate starting today. You must not come to see me here again! Never!” Samson whispered frantically, pushing Maddox back to the secret tunnel from where he emerged. “Meet me tonight, usual place, usual time. Be one minute late and I’ll be gone.”
Straightening himself, Samson opened his door calmly, hoping that no one heard the soft noises Maddox made while entering and exiting his room from the concealed passage under the bed. The walls were thick, but here in the Gallows walls had ears.
“Ser Samson, I bring you Ser Cullen of Ferelden. Knight-Commander Meredith told me that he is to be your new roommate.” It was Ser Emeric, one of the other senior Templars at Kirkwall. Following closely behind him was a tall young man in Ferelden’s Templar Armor. He could see the the Ferelden’s Templar Insignia, the Flaming Sword, pointing up, in contrast to Kirkwall’s Templar Insignia which pointed down on Emeric’s armor. Ferelden’s Kinloch Hold was known as one of the more liberally run Circle, and they had paid the price of their “liberal” actions.
Samson nodded, then moved from the door to let the young Templar into their quarter now. Ser Emeric left them after a quick nod to Samson.
“There is your bed, the one against the wall. The chest beside it and the self above are yours, the desk too. That side of the room is yours. Make yourself home.” He pointed Cullen’s half of the room. It was quite a spacious room, even for two people, yet the windows are situated high above them and not much sun could enter the room. Samson had kept the windows open as much as he could and put several candles on each desk in an attempt to make the room a bit more merrier, however he could not chase the sinister feeling of living in a prison.
The young Templar started to open the bag he had brought with him, putting his things very neatly and orderly in the appointed chest. Now that he had time to observe the newcomer closer, Samson noticed that while his armor had been slightly travel stained, it had surely been polished every day or two. Ser Cullen himself had short curly hair of reddish blond and neatly trimmed stubbles. His amber eyes were cold and guarded. He was the very image of order and neatness.
Samson watched Cullen unpacking for a few moments. The boy was young, early twenty probably. He would not give him older than twenty two or twenty three, less than half his own age. Yet if he had survived Kinloch Hold, he must have seen a lot of the Templar Order’s messier sides than most. That hardened look on his face usually stood for someone much older.
“We need to get you a new armor,” noticed Samson after a while. “I will take you to the Armory first thing tomorrow morning. It won’t do for you to wear the Sword of Mercy with the wrong side up.”
Cullen’s eyes scanned him. He nodded, his expression hardened. “Knight-Commander Meredith said that the sword pointing up means that we watch mages much more closely here than in Kinloch Hold,” he said quietly. “It is good to know. Too much freedom will let mages unchecked.”
Samson sighed again. This guy had been here not longer than a day, and now he had already taking in all Meredith’s stances. In a few decades, he would sound like Ser Alrik, one of Kirkwall’s well known mage-haters.
Now, he already missed having his room to himself.
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Is it still to come...? Did I miss yet another thing because I'm not romancing him?? 
). Special thanks to MelissaGT & Teshayel.
