--
”I’ve decided to go after all,” The words spoken were seemingly unheeded as his father, the great Bann of Ostwick, continued writing. Maxwell stood silent as he watched him finish signing the letter he had been busy working on. His father finally put the quill back into the ink glass before looking at him.
“While I do wonder what made you change your mind, I suppose I should be thankful that you finally decided to do something for once,” His father’s cold stare pierced right through him as he spoke. While he did not say outright, it was clear he knew why he finally decided to go to the conclave despite his initial reluctance. His cousin Marrick, who would be at the conclave as well, had told him that their uncle Erik would be there as part of the Templar order. Erik had always been his favorite uncle and when he heard he would be there, he jumped at the opportunity, and the fact that his motivation was driven by sentimentality and not some sort of ambition had most likely disappointed the old man. His father turned his head down again to fold the letter together and afterwards seal it.
“I thought you’d be more pleased,” Maxwell spoke in a slightly hushed tone. While he usually did not crave it, he had hoped for once to hear his father’s approval. The Bann of Ostwick put the letter aside and turned his head up to look at him again.
“Pleased? Hmpf!” His father sneered, holding a small pause before continuing, “By what? That my youngest son decided to do something after all the times he did not? That you broke all those years of sloth not because you aspired to something greater, but to visit family. Should I be proud of that? Did you hope for a reward?” The room was dead still after that for a moment; Maxwell drew a deep breath before answering.
“I had hoped for some gratitude,” He answered plainly. His father slowly rose from his chair in response.
“When I look at you I see only wasted potential,” He started to slowly walk around the desk to face him “If you had joined the templars when you were young as your mother and I wanted, you could have easily become Knight-Commander of any circle you chose and eventually Knight-Vigilant of the entire order. But you refused, and I was foolish enough to allow it thinking that you had greater plans in mind,” Maxwell sighed inside his thoughts, contrary to what his father insisted and despite how much he admired his uncle and the order, he knew he would make a terrible templar himself. His father continued “When you were older, I allowed you to participate in our parties, believing you would be an example of our family to others, perhaps even finding a suitable wife there. Instead, you insulted our name, too busy participating in drunken brawls and chasing elven maids,” Maxwell looked away for a moment before looking back to face him, even though he felt himself shrink in the face of his father’s disapproval.
“You have many qualities my son. You have been blessed with both strength and good health, you have a knowledgeable mind and when you decide to, a cunning one as well. And yet, in all these years what have you accomplished, what is your claim to fame? A skilled swordsman, nothing more,” His father had continued his speech, they were face to face now.
“So you will excuse me if I don’t wish to congratulate you for wanting to see your uncle again. At least Marrick is there to represent our family,” And with that his father finally ended his talk. The room was quiet for a moment, but Maxwell had no desire to break it and simply nodded before turning around to exit the room. When he was at the door his father left him with these words
“I’ll suggest you go and pack your belongings now, you’ll leave early tomorrow,”
He did not bother to answer and simply left through the door. He couldn’t wait to get away from here.
--
The temple of sacred ashes.
Ever since the hero of Ferelden had found and shared the discovery of it with the rest of Thedas has the temple been a major pilgrimage site for his family. He still recalled seeing his aunt Helena upon returning from her pilgrimage, describing the majesty and beauty of the site with tears in her eyes. And while he had back then doubted just how impressive it could be, finally seeing it with his own eyes, he felt awe-inspired.
“Everything you hoped for, cousin?” Marrick asked when both of them now had a clear view of the temple as they sat on their horses. They had travelled for just over two weeks now along with their retainers, first by boat across the waking sea then by horse once in Ferelden. Their retainers consisted of three scribes, two dozen bodyguards and four of father’s most trusted advisors who had travelled alongside to aide him and Marrick in the talks, though mostly Marrick, he was the one who was supposed to do all the work after all.
“Sure, I’m impressed. And double so if this place have decent lodging,” Maxwell joked. For the last twelve days they had travelled through Ferelden to get here, with all the misery that entails, having to endure the foul weather and even fouler food. Marrick let out a small grin at his comment. Even he was looking forward to something else than more run-down Ferelden inns to stay at.
“Hopefully the food they’ll serve here will be better than what we had at the last town. Another bowl of grey rabbit stew and I will be rather bitter,” Marrick turned his head to see what must be four rebel mages march past them. Both men watched the mages beginning the descend from the hill on which they were. Maxwell turned back to his cousin.
“The leaders of the chantry, the templars and the mage rebellion alongside the representatives of a dozen noble houses are all here. I am fairly certain someone will have brought a decent cook along,”
“And if none of them have? If we all must continue eating grey stew?” Marrick continued asking. He quickly turned to look back at the rest of their retainers who finally caught up with them, they had ridden ahead of the group in order to race each other up to the hill.
“Then these talks might just be doomed to fail,” Marrick smiled at Maxwell’s comment. A small pause was held before Maxwell took several deep breaths through the nose, enjoying the crisp autumn air “I can’t believe it,” he murmured .
“What is the matter, Maxwell?”
“We are Maker knows how far up in the mountains … and Ferelden still smells of wet dog,” There was a second of silence before both men let out a small laughter.
“Come now, cousin, the temple of sacred ashes await!” And with that both Marrick and Maxwell began slowly riding down the hill with their retainers following suit. It was good to finally be here and Maxwell could not wait to get inside and enjoy a real hot meal and hopefully some Orleasian wine along with it,”
--
The warmth of the temple was a refreshing contrast to the cold outside, Maxwell found himself amazed at being inside this ancient place, it’s old walls still seemingly strong. Many of the temple’s rooms and areas had been repurposed to house its many guests to the best of its ability, though it was clear it was never meant to house so many nobles and retainers at once. As a result, the Trevelyans had found themselves relegated to three smaller chambers, one for the three scribes, the second was for the highest ranked and most skilled of their bodyguards with the rest forced to find shelter in Haven or in one of the common rooms set up, and the third was for Maxwell and Marrick.
“At least we don’t have to share bed,” Marrick wryly remarked when they were presented with the room, Maxwell couldn’t have agreed more and felt relieved seeing the two beds in each their side of the chamber. The lack of rooms for all had already soured the mood for some expecting far better for such an event.
Maxwell had been busy afterwards exploring the temple and see as much of it as he could. He had even tried to see if he could be allowed access to the where the ashes themselves once stood, though he was sadly denied entrance by chantry guards, and while he had been disappointed he did not wish to cause a scene and had let it be.
But all that was unimportant right now, he had been waiting near the entrance to where the Templar officials were, waiting for his uncle. He had stood there for several minutes now, only a matter of time now he thought, he had told a low ranking member of the order that the representative of the Trevelyans wished to speak to Ser Erik Trevelyan of the Templars with all haste.
But the wait was finally over. The door leading to their area opened up and Maxwell could finally see his uncle approaching him.
His uncle was fifty years old last time Maxwell saw him, Erik used to have an aura of youth to him despite his age. But that five years ago and the man in front of him looked tired and worn out, his dark blue eyes were sunken in. Despite this, his features brightened up upon seeing his nephew. Maxwell walked towards him now, each step more excited than the last.
“Uncle!” Maxwell cried out, it had been too long since he last saw him. Uncle and nephew quickly embraced each other and let go.
“Maxwell… By the Maker, how long has it been? Five years?”
“It is,” Maxwell answered, he remembered the last time they saw each other. Sharing drinks in the best tavern in Ostwick, him sharing stories of whatever misbehavior he had been up to since last. His uncle telling tales of the most strangest things that could happen in a circle tower.
Yet judging from his looks, his uncle no longer had such humorous tales to tell, perhaps the opposite in fact. He looked so exhausted, so weary, what had happened? He had heard the stories coming from the result of the war between mages and templars. Of the terror and chaos both parties spread in their wake, yet he had a hard time believing it could be as bad as he had heard it. But seeing his uncle, perhaps it was true? “Come, walk with me,” his uncle now gestured him to follow, Maxwell complied.
“So how is home?” His uncle asked, Maxwell looked down for a moment before answering.
“Fine, father is as he always is,” He gave a weak smile answering. He still remembered their final conversation before he left, he still wished things had gone better.Erik raised an eyebrow.
“He didn’t approve of you participating in the conclave?”
“No, he knew I only left because you were here,”
Erik shook his head in response.
“My dear brother always did loath such sentimentalities,” Maxwell could not have agreed more. He had always heard claims that between his father and his uncle that it was Erik that had inherited most of their sire’s gentler qualities. And while Maxwell had never gotten the chance to know his grandfather, he knew his father and uncle enough not to doubt such sayings. His uncle had always been kind and good to him whenever they saw each other. And while his duty to the order had kept him away from Ostwick, Erik had always seized every opportunity to return to them when he grew up. When he was younger Erik had brought him toys and other small gifts from the circles. When he was older they had sparred and practiced against each other, his uncle becoming more impressed each time they fought as he witnessed his growing skill as a swordsman. The only bad memory he had in regards to Erik was when he told him he had no interest in becoming a templar, he remembered his uncle’s visible disappointment and sorrow hearing the words. His relationship with his uncle was a stark contrast to his father who … well … he had no interest in thinking about his father right now.
“But what of you, uncle? How are you exactly?”
“What of me?” His uncle let out a heavy sigh, he sounded so exhausted now “I just pray to the Maker that peace will be made in the coming days and this war will end,”
“How bad has it been?” His uncle had been mostly out of touch with them ever since the war started, having only send two letters since the rebellion’s start, but now that he was here, he finally had a chance to hear from him in person about the war.
“It has been chaos, I’ve have been fortunate to been part of the smaller templar host in the northern Free Marches. The fighting have been far greater here in the south and far more brutal,” A hint of sadness could be heard as he stated the facts.
“Why?”
“Because of Lord Seeker Lucius,” Erik sneered “He followed Lambert’s policy of offering no quarters to the mages, now none of the rebels in the south would ever surrender, preferring to become abominations or resorting to blood magic to kill as many templars as possible than be captured and executed,”
“How is the north different?”
“It isn’t, not entirely at any rate, some mages still fight to the death. But the northern templar host have not followed the Lord Seeker’s example of killing all rebels we see. And the Lord Seeker is too occupied by Fiona in the south to pay us heed,”
“Last time I’ve heard the Templars were winning the war until Ferelden intervened,” Maxwell had heard that king Alistair had offered the mages free haven in Redcliff about 4 months ago, removing almost any hope for the templars of winning the war through strength of arms without assuring their own destruction
“We were, but certainly not because of the tactics the Lord Seeker employed. On the contrary I believe such actions have only made things worse. Even a fool should know that a cornered beast fights twice as hard,” They stopped at a window now, the view outside was beautiful, the distant trees were nothing more than dots painted in the colors of autumn.
“But you all agreed to follow the Lord Seeker-” Maxwell pointed out, but he was interrupted midway through.
“We all agreed to stop the mage rebellion and bring back the circles, we all agreed to prevent another Tevinter Empire from being born, we did not all agree to slaughter each and every mage!” Anger seared through his uncle’s voice and fury across his face as he spoke and Maxwell was shocked when he he saw his uncle step closer to him, as if he was ready to strike out at him. It was also now that he noticed something else in his eyes, how they were not just sunken in, but also completely red in the outer edges. His uncle backed away, his entire body shaking.
“I’m sorry, I do not know what …” He pressed his fingers against his eyelids, struggling to find the words “...what came over me,” he sounded so broken, so ashamed of his behavior. He took a few deep breaths before muttering “Maker help me,”
“Uncle, are you all right?” Maxwell reached his hand out to put it on his shoulder but he shook it off.
“I’m fine, just tired. I’m not as young as I once was if you remember,” Erik gave him a weak smile in assurance. Maxwell accepted the answer even if he knew there were more to it, he did not wish to press the issue here.
“Come, uncle, let us return back,” Erik nodded in agreement and they started walking again, after a few steps he continued “Me and Marrick would be honored if you and some of the other officers would dine with us later,” Some of the weariness and distress washed off his uncle as he heard the proposal.
“I’ll look into it,” his uncle stated.
As they continued down the hallway on their way back a new question crossed his mind, they made a turn around a corner and at the end of the long hallway a group of people in blue and grey colors walked in their direction, He turned to his uncle.
“If the Lord Seeker was so staunchly opposed to the mages, it must have been hard to convince him to accept the peace talks,” He knew his uncle would not have been directly there to see it, but perhaps he had heard something from the other Templars.
“Actually no,”
“No?” Maxwell let out in surprise.
“As I have said, I have not been part of the southern campaign, yet I have heard comments from the officers here who have been,”
“And?” He was curious now to hear what his uncle would say.
“They’re confused, the Lord Seeker had been zealous in his policy of not compromising with the mages. Yet he seemed more than eager to send delegates to participate here, almost as if he expected it in advance, he did not even need the slightest convincing. Rather strange for a man of his.. conviction” Erik took a few seconds to find the right word at the end. A group of Grey Wardens passed them,some of them heavily armed soldiers in suits of plate armor and wielding swords, others were mages clad in scale mail and carrying staves. Maxwell and Erik observed the men and women as they passed and they were observed in return, the Wardens watching them with suspicious and distrustful eyes.
“Perhaps the Lord Seeker is a more reasonable man than you expected?”
“Maybe you’re right, at any rate we’re relieved that he accepted to parley,” and with that they were done with talking about templars and war, turning to lighter matters as they returned to their quarters.
Retour en haut
...Really knight commander? The War Table?
(well I can see where this is going, but that is not a discussion I'm interested in, so I'll just bow out of the subject here)
.
