There and Back Again Ch. 063-064

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Modern Girl in Thedas during the Fifth Blight.
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Part 41 of the 141 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 06/12/2016
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Chapter Sixty-Three: Making a Deal

I spoke to Greagoir, Irving, Alim, Tanar, and the nameless templar. "There's more. Because it turns out that I am not a mage; I'm a templar. Without training, without Lyrium, and without the Chantry."

Tanar smiled slightly, and Irving nodded thoughtfully; Alim looked a little bit nervous, but glanced at Irving and the lack of panic seemed to calm him. By contrast, Greagoir jumped up from where he sat and spluttered loudly. I sat quietly and watched, amused by his shock. Irving glanced at my face, and I could see him suppress a smirk of his own.

When Greagoir regained control of his voice and began berating me for wasting his time with nonsense, I smiled sardonically. "I will give you answers, Ser, when you sit down. That is why I am here, after all. And when I have explained, we will discuss the next steps."

My calm manner seemed to soothe him to some extent; my years as a business consultant taught me that the way to respond to someone who was ranting was to get quieter and quieter, without appearing to be afraid. It feels extremely awkward to shout at someone who does not either respond in kind or cower. He paced back and forth a couple of times in front of his seat, face red, and then finally sat back down with a sigh.

"I met a scholar recently who knows things about the templar order that the Chantry seems to have forgotten, and it has been an eye opener. I will not waste your time with the entire story of how I came to find out I am a templar, but rather just give you the information I think is relevant.

"During recent research, I learned that the Chantry does not seem to know why some templars seem exceptionally talented, while others who work just as hard remain ineffective, at best."

Tanar interrupted me. "Before you get excited, Knight-Commander, I told her that. In Redcliffe."

I nodded. "Indeed. The scholar, who I met recently, was able to explain some things I suspect you do not know. The reason some templars abilities are stronger than others isn't something that can be taught, and it has nothing to do with morals or character or faith. What it does have to do with is magic, or rather, the resistance to it."

Tanar's eyes lit up, and Irving looked intrigued; even Greagoir appeared to be listening avidly, though his countenance was still angry.

"We are all born with a certain amount of resistance to magic. Dwarves have a lot of resistance, obviously, but in humans and elves, the amount is quite variable. And it is hereditary; if you come from parents with strong resistance, it is more likely you will have strong resistance. It is this resistance that determines to what extent a templar can develop their skills. Regardless of how hard you work, if you have low resistance to magic, you will never become a good templar. And apparently, if your resistance is high enough, you will manifest templar abilities without training.

"The scholar reasoned that I may have extremely high magical resistance, given that I grew up in a world with no magic. I wonder if all people where I grew up have it? And Wynne has confirmed it - what did you say, Wynne? Worse than healing a dwarf?"

The elderly mage nodded, chuckling. "Indeed." She turned to Irving. "Afterwards you need to try this - I cast a rejuvenation spell on Sierra, and I probably used twice the mana that I would for anyone else. Healing her was much more difficult, as well, and the lightheadedness caused by healing was far worse than normal."

I was surprised; I hadn't thought about my blackout in Honnleath for a while. But she was right - even the more minor healing she'd done since, after sparring with Tomas, made me a bit dizzy. I was drawn from my thoughts by Tanar's excited muttering.

"That would explain the Lyrium's effect, as well!" When he looked up and realised everyone was staring at him, he flushed. "Ingested Lyrium - it would increase a subject's resistance to magic. It's why dwarves have so much magic resistance - all the Lyrium in the stone."

"It seems the Chantry has forgotten a few other details, as well, over the centuries," I continued, after a pause. "For one thing, in the distant past, more people in Thedas must have understood the magical resistance, because it was purposefully bred into the royal families, and I suspect many of the noble families, in the nations across Thedas. This is why, I bet you'll find on average, that the younger sons and bastards of noble families who become templars are more effective than the commoners. It has nothing to do with upbringing or worthiness, but is something they have no more control over than their eye colour. This higher inherent magical resistance probably also decreases the number of mage children born into the royal families.

"In addition, there are abilities, which the strongest of templars should be able to learn, that I do not believe you are aware of. They likely won't make much difference to the average initiate, but those who advance through the ranks may benefit.

"I am not a master at these skills, by any means. They are mostly instinctual for me, as I was not trained in how to be a templar. I initially used them during periods of intense fear. I have, however, learned to control several of them." I held a hand up to forestall Greagoir, who was about to interrupt me. "And I am willing to show you, even to teach you, if you will accede to my request."

Greagoir did not jump to his feet again, but his complexion, which had returned to normal during my tale, flushed again. "You have information that should only be privy to the Chantry, and if I do not give you what you want, you would refuse to share it?"

"Yes," I replied, softly. "I do not believe that your Chantry has sole dominion over knowledge, nor any inherent right to take it from those who do not fall under their purview. That said, I believe there is a role for templars in Thedas, and I am willing to aid them in their task. However, there are more important things that we are dealing with than the Chantry's knowledge, or lack thereof. I have freely given you the information I know, so far, and I suspect even knowing that information will allow you to research into new templar abilities if you can test the untrained initiates for resistance, and allow the most promising to work together.

"However, if you wish us to take time away from our very critical task of ending the Blight, you must make it worth our time. I am asking for something of value to me, that inherently does not hurt you in any way. Perhaps you would like, now, to hear my request?"

When he finally nodded, I took a deep breath. "I wish for you to release Anders to be conscripted into the Grey Wardens."

I managed to avoid flinching at the inevitable explosion that came from Greagoir as he leapt to his feet.

"Of all the...arrogant...! You don't know what you're asking for! He's a menace. He's escaped the Circle six times, and is currently being held in the dungeon. I will not risk the safety of countless innocents by letting that...maleficar...out of our control."

Irving stood and objected. "Anders is no maleficar, Greagoir, and you know it. Yes, he has escaped the Circle, but has he ever hurt someone to escape? Attacked a templar? Turned to blood magic? Just because he cannot tolerate being confined, does not mean he is a maleficar."

Greagoir started to shout back, and then Tanar stood and joined the fray; I sat on my log and watched, amused, as it looked like the three adult men would come to blows. It was when the templar behind Greagoir gripped the pommel of his sword that finally, Tomas had had enough.

"Gentleman!" he shouted, over-riding even Greagoir's ranting. "Sit down this instant and we will discuss this like adults."

Despite his short hair and smooth chin, Tomas didn't lack for commanding presence. All three men fell silent, and finally sat down, sulking like children. I appealed to Greagoir once again.

"I know exactly what I am asking for, Knight-Commander. Because of the book I told you about, I know exactly what will happen to Anders in the future. He will escape again, after the Blight, and be conscripted into the Grey Wardens then instead of now. And in the meantime, he will have been damaged by the year of solitary confinement you are currently punishing him with, and you will have to put up with the embarrassment of yet another escape. Instead, he can come with us, be useful against the darkspawn, help end the Blight, and be out of your hair. I will personally take responsibility for him, and I will be able to demonstrate why you need not fear him while in my company."

Greagoir looked slightly calmer, but not entirely pacified. He turned to Wynne, and I tried not to cringe.

"What do you think, Senior Enchanter?"

Wynne looked at me, expression inscrutable. I nodded; she needed to tell the truth. I wouldn't ask her to lie about disagreeing with me.

"You know very well that I do not trust that young man. All of those escapes, and then his reputation in the tower even before that..." Irving grimaced, and I sighed. "That said, I do trust Sierra. She is well able to deal with an abomination, should something happen; ask Irving about how Uldred died, sometime, if you doubt it. She feels strongly that letting Anders become a Warden is the best course of action. While I am not so sure, I find it difficult to argue effectively. These are not normal times, and extraordinary measures may be required."

I smiled gratefully, blushing at the compliment of complete trust she paid me. I mouthed 'Thanks Mom,' at her, and she winked at me.

"From you, Wynne, that's high praise." Greagoir sat, looking thoughtful; I took it as a good sign he hadn't refused outright. After a few moments, he asked Irving and Tomas to walk with him, and they took off toward the shore, talking quietly under their breath. Irving gestured as he spoke, and I smiled at his animation. He was sort of cute, in a grandfatherly way.

While we waited, Tanar slid over to be nearer to me. "Where did you learn all this information about templars?"

I looked up, judging the distance between us and the helmeted templar; he was facing Irving and Greagoir, and I doubted he'd be able to hear, but I whispered anyway.

"A mage. A Grey Warden who'd stayed alive for centuries using blood magic."

He looked horrified, and I nodded. "Yeah, that's what we thought too. But he was certainly knowledgeable. Apparently, two or three hundred years ago, this was all common knowledge."

I said he was knowledgeable, and allowed Tanar to think what he would, knowing he'd assume I meant that the apostate was dead. He managed to look both disappointed and relieved at the same time. I chuckled. Welcome to my life.

I answered Tanar's questions as best I could, though for the most part I didn't know the answers. After a few minutes, I decided I wanted to know what was going on with Alim. He had yet to speak, and I was curious not only why he was with them, but also whether he knew Jowan and was involved in his escape. I could have asked Tanar - he was clearly the gossipy type - but instead I got up and sat down in Irving's vacated spot.

"Alim, is it?"

He nodded, eyes widening. "Yes, my lady?"

"Just Sierra, please. I have less interest in a title than you can imagine." I smiled, and his lips turned up slightly. "I was just wondering why on Earth they brought you with them." I smiled as he seemed to work through my strange jargon.

He sighed. "The Knight-Commander has decided that I am the only trustworthy mage in the Tower." I looked confused, and he explained, "I was the one who told him one of the apprentices was a blood mage."

I gasped. "Jowan?"

He nodded, clearly confused that I knew who that was. I couldn't figure out what to say. Good job? You're an asshole? I couldn't decide. I still wasn't sure where I stood on the Jowan situation. Fortunately, Alim chose not to ask.

"I think he and Irving are grooming me to be the next First Enchanter, and Greagoir's decided to keep me close. I don't know if it's so he gets to know me, or maybe to try and intimidate me into being more cooperative than Irving is...either way, lately I've had to follow him about almost everywhere."

"Were you in the Harrowing chamber, when Uldred..."

He confirmed it, looking ill. "Yes. I saw you there. I was only too glad I passed out before it was over, though I could have lived without the headache."

My face flushed. "Uh, sorry about that. That might have been my fault."

He looked at me, and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead. "You killed Uldred? You were the templar who drained all our mana."

I nodded. "Yeah, although I didn't know it then. I still don't exactly know how I killed him." His eyes were wide, and I realised suddenly that he was afraid. "Hey, wait. I'm not like other templars. I have unique powers, but I don't hate mages. I wasn't raised an Andrastian. I would never use my powers on you, well, assuming you don't get all bulbous and gross and demony."

He sputtered out a laugh. "Demony?"

I blushed. "What else should I call it? I'm not exactly familiar with the nuances of the names for the various types of possessed mages."

He laughed, and when he was done, we talked for a few more minutes about the Circle and the Chantry. When I told him I thought the templars were wrong to isolate mages, not warn them what they faced in the Harrowing, and that I didn't believe anyone should ever be made Tranquil, he seemed to relax and open up a bit more. We had a pleasant 'wouldn't it be nice' conversation, dreaming of a world where the Circle was there to protect mages, not imprison them. I hoped he was right and did become the First Enchanter when Irving retired. He wasn't an idiot, and he was willing to spend the time and effort to effect change. He was likely only my age, but I was impressed with his wisdom.

Irving and Greagoir spoke for probably half an hour, alternating between calm discussion and obviously angry arguments, with Tomas apparently only interjecting when things became too heated, but they eventually came back. Greagoir informed me, in a gruff voice, that Anders would be released into the custody of the Grey Wardens. I smiled gratefully, repressing my shout of joy.

Of course, Greagoir wanted to begin training right away to learn the abilities I could show him. It occurred to me, for the first time, that without an Emissary around, training was going to be difficult.

"I...have a small problem. I need a mage to, uh, borrow mana from." He looked revolted, and I tried to placate him. "My abilities allow me to drain a mage's mana, but then sometimes, I can...do things with it. I am all-but-untrained; I can barely perform a basic smite, but if I have access to a mage..."

Irving, who'd been listening, walked over. "You may use my mana, Sierra."

Wynne hustled over, interrupting anything else he was going to say. "No, Irving! You have not been well; I will not allow it." She turned to me. "Use mine, dear."

"Wynne..."

"I insist. You need mana, so use mine."

To my relief, Aedan spoke. "Wynne, we need you in top form when we're done here, in case healing is required. We can't have you drained of mana."

She seemed to consider this, and then turned to Tanar. "Don't look at me!" he exclaimed. "Once was enough."

Alim, who'd been listening silently, approached. "Use mine. I am not needed for healing, and I am certainly healthy enough to withstand it."

"I...do not wish to cause you discomfort." I was not keen on the idea, by any means. I knew it wouldn't damage anything - Avernus had been fine, when I gave him his mana back - but I didn't know if it could have a negative impact on Wynne's Spirit, and I had just barely gotten the elf to stop being afraid of me.

"Can it kill me?"

"I don't believe so."

"Does it hurt more than a smite?"

"No, at least, I don't think so. I've been told it's mostly very uncomfortable - you will be able to feel your mana, but not access it."

"I'll live," he drawled, wryly. "Let's get this over with."

Alim, Greagoir, and I went to sit together, some distance from everyone else. The first thing I did was what I had done with Alistair, having Alim create small fireballs and showing Greagoir what I could see when he did it. He was a little slower to pick it up than Alistair, but we got to the point where he could detect a spell that was being visualised, even before it was cast, and I figured he'd have plenty of opportunities to practice once we left. Then, with an apologetic warning to Alim, I robbed the elf of his mana entirely, and just held it.

Alim grunted, but Greagoir's mouth hung open in surprise. His shock was sort of amusing, and I grinned. "Right? Can you feel the mana?"

"How did you..."

"No idea. It just happened. Now watch."

Like I had done for Avernus, I let a small trickle of the mana flow back, and then more, until I held perhaps half. "Now you try. Take what I'm not using."

Unlike Alistair's smooth ability to share with me, Greagoir's attempts were clumsy. I wondered just how much stronger Alistair's abilities must be, and what that would have meant for him had he stayed at the Chantry. He could have been the next Knight-Commander, if they truly promote by skill. Greagoir tried to grab the mana with what felt like brute force, knocking the wind out of Alim and even jolting me. I growled, and Greagoir flinched apologetically.

"Alim?"

"I've had worse. I'll be fine."

I made Greagoir practice picking up the mana and putting it back again several times until he could do it less roughly. Once I was convinced he had it, I dropped the rest of Alim's mana and bade Greagoir try it on his own. It took a while, and Alim looked a lot more uncomfortable than when I did it, but he finally had it.

Then I showed him the shield. His eyes were huge as I convinced Tomas to try to strike me with his sword - it bounced right off. Greagoir could see what I'd done, but he couldn't seem to master it. He would take Alim's mana, and the air around his target would sort of shimmer, but the shield wouldn't stay. He finally stopped, panting in exhaustion.

I told him of the other two abilities I had - one, which seemed like a super-powered, area-of-effect smite - and the other, which made Uldred's orifices start leaking blood. I explained that I had not yet learned how to do either with any sort of control, in addition to which I couldn't try because of the lack of those that I wanted dead in the immediate vicinity.

Finally finished, the three of us rejoined the rest of the group. Wynne, Irving, and Tanar all took turns casting minor spells - rejuvenations and small heals, for the most part - on each other, Alistair, Greagoir, and me. I was unsurprised to discover that while my resistance was clearly much, much higher than the rest, Alistair's was the next highest - noticeably higher than Greagoir's. The Knight-Commander scowled at Alistair, and no one could miss the twinkle in Alistair's eye. He opened his mouth, most likely to make some witty comment, but a harsh glare from Tomas shut him up abruptly.

I knew exactly what he was going to say, and I almost blurted it out too: Aren't you sorry you weren't all nicer to Alistair when he was in the Chantry? Tomas' gaze swivelled to me, and I turned away to hide my amusement.

Chapter Sixty-Four: Tattling and Embarrassment

Greagoir followed through with his end of the deal, and even offered us one better - the use of the Circle's boat to get to Redcliffe. We agreed gratefully, and decided to meet in the morning to greet Anders, recruit him, and board the boat. Wynne would accompany Irving and Greagoir back to the Tower to make sure Anders was ready to travel.

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