Six Escape Attempts (Part 5)
The Six Escape Attempts (and Single Escape) of Anders
Mulit-Chapter, a bit long.
Rating: PG at max
Some implied pairings, but only Anders/Karl stands out. A few OC Wardens, who don't conflict with each other and don't play much role.
Ch. 5 - The Study Attempt
8 Wintermarch, 9:22 Dragon
It took the templars over a year to find him. Well, that was slightly untrue. Templars found him all the time, but templars aren’t very good at communicating with each other when it comes to apostates, especially when the apostate gives a different name every time he is caught. Templars on the road are also much easier to fool than templars within the tower. They can stop a mage’s powers of course, but very few will attempt to bind a mage’s feet, or even his hands. Anders would ask very solemnly to gather his things, remaining the pinnacle of politeness, and the templars, ever vigilant for the presence of mana sometimes took hours before they would realize that he had simply walked away in the other direction. Running required no mana whatsoever. The chantry didn’t train templars to deal with mages who didn’t fight back.
And so Anders kept on the move for well over a year and a half, never staying in one town for more than a couple months, and always careful to keep his magic to what was strictly necessary for healing, for cooking and for defense. He traveled with the chasind for a short time, but found himself very much an outsider and became lonely quickly. Anders had never thought that loneliness was a problem he would be likely to encounter, given how much he usually craved respite from the people around him, but being surrounded by people with whom he couldn’t easily communicate was another matter entirely. It held all the promise of freedom and company with none of the benefits of civilization or community. In the end, he left of his own accord after about two months. He ran into templars less than a week later, but gabbed at them in the chasind tongue until they simply started walking away. From then on, Anders preferred simply trickery as a means of escape over fighting or hiding. So far, it had worked quite well.
Then Rylock came along.
Rylock had not taken well to waking up without any armor, and had apparently gone on such a screaming rampage to Greagoir afterwards about privacy and gender issues in the tower that Greagoir had put in a request that transferred her to the Lothering chantry for some “time away from the claustrophobic effects of Kinloch Hold”. Lothering had transferred her to Highever soon after that, and then someone had decided that perhaps she would be better in a templar’s original function of hunting apostate mages. Evidently, she was looking for one in particular. It took her a year to find him.
Anders had only been in Denerim for two weeks and had just started to get used to the hustle of the capital. Plenty of mages wandered the streets, accompanied by templars as they walked into Wonders of Thedas, or else travelling with tranquil mages and hawking enchanted wares in the market district. Anders very occasionally saw templars leading a young child, crying and screaming, usually from the alienage, away to the chantry, or worse the city gates. No on questioned where they where going or why. No one needed to.
So far, Anders had managed to escape templar notice by hiding in the open. If he walked past a templar in the market district completely unafraid, or even better cheerful, then the templar never questioned his presence there. Everyone assumed that any mage unafraid of templars must have permission to be where they were. Anders held long religious debates with the guards outside the Denerim Chantry - one of whom had a lyrium addicition that was starting to show - and hawked his own form of wares in the market district for silver. The tower hadn’t taught him much in the way of spells that could be sold, but he was good with repairs and with healing - especially burns.
Rylock, however, saw through him at once. If the greeting had been any different, Anders might have been able to assume that she was merely overly suspicious and may have even been able to plead his case convincingly to the chantry templars. However, it was somewhat obvious to the entire district that she had other means of knowing Anders’ past.
“YOU!” she shrieked, so that everyone in the market district flinched with guilt, “YOU! They told me that you went south but I knew I would find you here! I know what you’re up to! I know what evil deeds you’ve got planned and I’m here to stop you in the name of the Maker himself!!” Rylock didn’t even notice when one of the ever-present children playing at the market stalls ran into her so hard that he knocked himself over.
Anders tried to look at the people around him to see if there was any way he could shift some of the blame, or at least some of the attention, but it was too clear from her deadlocked stare and accusing finger that she was shouting to him. So, Anders tried lying.
“I’m sorry, Ser Knight, I’m afraid I don’t-“ he started in his best quavering voice.
“Don’t you start lying to me mage!” Rylock snapped, “You cannot fool me twice! No mage wants to discuss his Harrowing! No mage ever just wants to talk! No mage would ever want-“ she stopped speaking so suddenly that she almost tripped herself from the effort of keeping the words in and swayed a moment in her armor. Well, it was clear that she remembered him. Anders wondered briefly whether in a different situation this might not have been a bad thing. But in the present, the best thing to do seemed to be to use her own outbursts against her.
“Look, ser, I really do apologize for any misunderstanding-“ Anders said as quickly as he could, glancing around for help he never expected to receive. To his delight and to his horror, help came in the form of the chantry guards.
“What’s going on here? The mages in the market district are accounted for. They are supervised. There’s no need-“ the younger of the two templar guards began
“Accounted for?!” Rylock broke in again. “This man is a wanted apostate from Kinloch Hold, on the run for months - years now - an apostate hiding under your noses and you don’t even have the decency as templars to check which mages in your district are supposed to be here and which aren’t? Did he lie to you, too? Present some forged note from the knight commander of Kinloch Hold giving him PERMISSION to be away from the tower? Or perhaps he claimed that he had come from Lothering and faked a letter from there?”
By this time, both templar guards as well as a large contingent of the city guard were uneasily closing in on the raving templar. Rylock took no heed of them, but rounded on Anders again.
“Come, mage! You’ve been caught and there’s no use in running away again. They’ll lock you up for sure now that you know where they’ve sent it. And I’ll make sure you’ll never get your dirty hands on it in your life, even if I have to take it to Val Royeaux myself!”
“I came here to work,” Anders said, looking at the city guards rather than Rylock, “I’m a healer. Nothing more. I can mend burns and cuts and broken bones, and I do a little repair work on the side. That’s all, I swear.”
“Dishonest as ever,” Rylock spat. “I knew I would find you here and now you prove me right. The Maker has led me here to stop you and now I shall fulfill that duty.” Her had suddenly tightened on the handle of her blade, though she didn’t pull it out. The chantry templar noticed, however and decided that now was perhaps a good time to try stepping in again.
“Why don’t I take you into the chantry where we can look at your registration then, ser, and if something looks amiss we’ll escort you back to the tower,” he said.
“Well, I don’t-” Anders started.
“He doesn’t have it!” Rylock shouted, “He never had any registration. He’s an apostate! I tell you I shall never forget that face!”
“I don’t have it with me!” Anders said again, much more quickly to get the words out before Rylock could drown him out again. “I don’t live in the district after all.”
“Mages are supposed to carry their registration on their person,” the chantry templar said, looking suddenly curious. “Surely you were told this upon leaving the tower.”
“Well, he wouldn’t have been, would he?” Rylock sneered, “Seeing as he never received registration papers and apostates don’t get the speech at the door.” Everyone ignored her.
“That was two years ago. You know me. Have I ever done anything-“ Anders said.
“It’s not about something you have or haven’t done,” the templar said, looking suspicious now. “It’s simple procedure is all. Now, perhaps…” he trailed off, glancing around at the watchful faces of merchants and mages and city guards, and doing his best to ignore Rylock’s furious, hissing breaths. “No, perhaps it would be best for me simply to take you back to the tower and clear this up with the Knight Commander there. Yes, I think-“
“I will take him,” Rylock volunteered at once. “I have been sent to find his sort, after all.” The templar squirmed very slightly, but stood his ground.
“No, I’ve been meaning to get down over to Redcliffe in any case. He will stay in the chantry tonight and leave first thing in the morning. Ser mage, please go into the chantry now. You will stay there for the night and be provided for. In the morning, I will go with you to collect your belongings,” he said. Then, he turned to face Rylock. “Now, I believe you came to the city with a duty, ser, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would kindly get on with it.”
Rylock huffed and spluttered, but knew there was no real argument to what he said. If he volunteered to bring Anders in, then he was well within his rights to do so. Every templar was a mage hunter, after all. Anders, having no choice in the matter was gently pushed into the chantry.
“Don’t let him get a hold of pen and paper,” he heard the templar whisper to a priestess by the door. “Just in case.”
-
Three days later, Anders was once again in a boat headed the wrong direction across Lake Calenhad. The templar had lied to Rylock for him about needing to get to Redcliffe and had taken him straight to the docks, and thus also the tower. He had been allowed to gather his things, though the templar had never asked to see registration and never questioned when Anders didn’t offer any.
“What was going to be your excuse for not having registration, then?” the templar asked once the boat docked in front of the tower. “Out of curiosity.”
“That one of the cats had pissed on it,” Anders said. He looked miserably up at the tower and wondered how he could ever have found the stones beautiful.
“And that you had just written for another and it hadn’t come through yet?” The templar laughed. “You know, I might have even believed you if you’d tried. My name is Harrith. I don’t know if we ever exchanged these pleasantries. I’m sorry if we didn’t.”
“They call me Anders.”
“But it isn’t your real name?” Harrith asked.
“It may as well be,” Anders said, “especially now.”
“And, er…” Harrith said, quietly enough that Kester, who was turning the boat around on the shore, couldn’t hear him, “what did you do to that templar to make her act that way?”
“Nothing!” Anders said, “Well, nothing she could pin to me in any case.”
“You’re a sly one, I’ll give you that,” Harrith said grinning. “Keep out of too much trouble. As long as you don’t do anything rash or harmful, a good number of templars won’t bother you. Most of us live with mages for a time. We understand you’re human, really. We’re not too different. No one should have to go against what the Makers has planned for them. Somehow, I think your plans may not lay here. So try not to piss off too many more templars on your journey. Now, I should get to Redcliffe, at least for a little while. I have a feeling that she’ll start asking questions if I don’t put in some appearance there. She’s got quite the memory for faces, doesn’t she?” And winking, Harrith climbed back into the boat and Kester pushed off the shore as the tower doors opened in invitation.
-
17 Justinian, 9:23 Dragon
The only really welcoming part of the tower was Karl. Karl had even after two years made sure that his bed remained unoccupied and the cat, now a large, fat, lazy thing that rarely left Karl’s mattress, had been well looked after. The Senior Enchanters welcomed him back, as did Finn who had been through his Harrowing a few months before. Knight Commander Greagoir didn’t say a word to him, but merely glared and pointed up the stairs. Irving, beside him, also didn’t speak, but nodded and smiled.
But as soon as the “hello”s and “welcome back”s were said, Anders felt trapped again. And for a year and a half now, he had been.
Knight Commander Greagoir was nothing if not sharp, and he had noticed that Anders’ was something of a flight risk. Anders had no way of knowing exactly how long ago the Knight Commander had noticed this about him, though he suspected it had been several years, but since Anders had now successfully tricked several of his templars into letting him walk right past their eyes, Greagoir had instituted some new security measures. Templars were not to be outside the tower or at the docks with their helmets on unless in battle. There were to be two templars stationed by the main tower doors at all times, as well as the usual templar outside. Also, he had not taken on any further female templars, though Anders couldn’t be certain whether this was actually Greagoir’s doing, or whether none had been sent to the tower for other reasons. Anders doubted that he would have noticed the heightened tensions in the tower if he hadn’t been away from it for so long.
The walls were maddening. The complacency was ingratiating. And the constant knowledge that he was being watched was infuriating.
“You could always apply to do research,” Karl said, “Or even for a transfer. You could try to get back to the Anderfels, if you wanted.”
“What makes you think that one tower is any better than another?” Anders replied.
“Maybe the Anderfels circle isn’t housed in a tower. Maybe they live in a garden and grow fruit and flowers with the templars.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you at all.”
“It would still be an escape of a sort,” Karl said. “An escape that I wouldn’t have to fret over.”
It was a conversation they had often, and one whose words rarely changed, though Anders knew that Karl had one day at a time been using these conversations to keep him in the tower. Every day Anders would start thinking about escape again, and every day Karl would say “stay with me” without ever using the words, and every day Anders couldn’t find the will to say no. Love is a prison with no walls, and a binding force that no one in its hold ever wants to escape. Anders would extol the virtues of freedom and tell of adventure and life - real life - in the cities he’d seen and the people he’d met, and Karl would listen politely, even eagerly, but if Anders ever spoke of leaving the tower again, Karl would take his hand and hold it gently and Anders knew he had crossed a line. Karl didn’t believe he could leave. He never believed that he could escape the templars, and he didn’t want the danger such actions posed. Karl only wanted what he already had. And if Anders was truthful with himself, he wasn’t sure what else he wanted either.
-
“I want to apply to study outside the tower.”
Knight Commander Greagoir’s entire face twitched, though Anders couldn’t be certain whether from rage or amusement.
“Study outside the tower is not granted lightly, as I’m sure you know. And it is purely for study. We do not generally permit mages to simply go live elsewhere under the condition that they have obtained templar permission to do so,” he said.
“Generally?” Anders asked, unable to stop himself.
“Ever,” Greagoir corrected.
“Well, I am aware of the chantry rules regarding mages residing for a time outside of the circle. I’ve been researching, you see,” Anders continued.
“That is supposed to surprise me?” Greagoir broke in.
“Doubtful, ser,” Anders answered back. “I’m pretty sure nothing much in the tower would surprise you.” Greagoir nodded, but remained silent. “I do in fact have a project proposal that would take me back to Denerim-“
“I am afraid that that is out of the question. We cannot allow further travel there at this time. Perhaps if there were somewhere else-“
“Well, Amaranthine would also do,” Anders cut Greagoir off. “It’s about how magic is treated and seen by city dwellers, by those accustomed to seeing mage robes on the tranquil, but not actual mages still in touch with the fade.”
“And I am supposed to trust you in a city the size of Amaranthine?” Greagoir said rather than asked.
“Have I proven myself untrustworthy in cities before?” Anders asked.
“I will set the clever wording aside and assume that you already know the answer to that question.” Greagoir responded.
“It really would be for research. Send a templar along with me, if that makes you feel better-”
“Somehow,” Greagoir said, stopping Anders with a raised hand, “the idea of one templar alone with you only makes me feel worse. Fill out the paperwork. It is your prerogative. I assume you have also researched all the requirements for such study and have most of the forms completed already. I shall speak to the first enchanter, as I would like to get my opinion on the matter to him before you go to him for backing - yes, I know that is your plan. You have already surmised that I am aware of most of what goes on in the tower. Now please, leave my office before this headache gets any worse.”
For once, Anders did as he was told.
-
First Enchanter Irving had a good number of tricks up his sleeve. Anders didn’t even need to tell him his plans, as Irving just waved them aside with a “Greagoir’s already been to see me and do you think I didn’t know this would come up eventually?”
“I thought I should go through the thing properly, First Enchanter,” Anders said, attempting to be sheepish while also trying not to laugh without much success at either. Irving smiled.
“There are always mages whose interests do not lie within the towers’ walls,” he said, “and usually they do better things for us if we give them permission to study than if we try to keep them contained until they break. Even Greagoir agrees that a broken mage is far too much of a mess to clean up if it can be avoided at a reasonable cost.”
“That’s perhaps not the most pleasant way of phrasing it…” Anders began.
“I would hardly think that you of all people would associate pleasantry with the tower,” Irving replied before Anders could finish. “Take your forms and give them to Greagoir with my blessing and my signature. He will protest and drill you, of course, but I would say you stand a fair chance of success.” Anders did his best not to skip from the room. He nearly even succeeded.
Karl was waiting outside for him and didn’t ask for the results of the discussion, but hugged him tightly for several long moments.
“You could petition to come, too, you know,” Anders whispered into Karl’s hair. “It might even make Greagoir feel better about the whole thing.”
“Two mages on the loose? What would make the Knight Commander happy about that?” Karl teased.
“Well, one of them would be responsible, you see, and he could keep tabs on the other. Make sure he didn’t try to escape or run away or anything like that.” Anders pulled back very slightly to rest his forehead against Karl’s. “The Knight Commander is an intelligent man. He would surely see the benefit of that plan.” They laughed together gently and Anders took Karl’s hand and walked with him down the main stairs.
“Do you want to turn those in?” Karl asked.
“They can wait for you,” Anders replied.
“But not forever.”
“A little while longer at least.”
It was two hours before Anders knocked on Greagoir’s door in a state of euphoria. He was so distracted that he only noticed the frantic-sounding shuffling and hushed voices coming from the other side of the door just before it opened.
“What is it? Oh, you.” Greagoir said only a little breathlessly. His armor was on, but the skirt was twisted at the bottom and his hair was disheveled. Anders opened his mouth, but Greagoir never gave him the chance to speak. “Well, give me your papers then and I’ll take a look. Mind you, I promise nothing, but- I, well- You’re done here. Go on. I have the papers.” And he shut the door.
Anders couldn’t stop smiling.
-
Anders didn’t ask how Irving had convinced Greagoir to sign off on his study. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The combined images of Knight Commander Tightwad and Ser Twisted-Skirt played in Anders’ mind whenever Greagoir was mentioned, so that he could not keep a straight face, no matter the circumstances.
It was another week before Greagoir gave Anders the official registration and assigned two templars to escort him to Amaranthine, where he was to be explicitly placed into chantry control to do his research for three months. Then the templars would come to escort him back to the tower. Anders didn’t like this plan, particularly, but it was the only one he was offered and after nearly two years Anders was willing to make compromises, at least in the short term. And so, after a wordless goodbye - which was still quite personal - to Karl, Anders walked down the stairs to meet his guards.
“Right, mage, we’ll be setting off as soon as you have your things, then,” said the templar on the right, who was the shorter of the two.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Anders said. “And I have all my things already. I’m a light traveler.”
The templar on the left laughed and Anders suddenly recognized him as the templar who had for years watched over his lessons with Torrin.
“We’re all set to head out then,” he said, “And my name is Endrin, in case you’ve forgotten, and this here is Tavish.”
“It’s good to meet you officially,” Anders said, “Call me Anders.”
“Let’s get out of here legally, shall we?” Endrin said with a wink, and waved them toward the main doors.
No one spoke on the boat ride to the Lake Calenhad docks, nor for the rest of the day’s journey east. Anders had nothing to say to his two guards, and they apparently had nothing to say to each other. He had known Endrin to be quiet - really, all templars had to be capable of staying quiet and alert for hours at a time as they watched over apprentices’ lessons - but there was a tension between the two templars that it took Anders several hours to notice. They did not look at each other, Anders or much of anything else around them as they walked, but only huffed and grunted occasionally when the path became especially steep or rocky. Anders’ mage robes were light and he knew how to keep them from becoming caught on bramble, but the heavy templar armor banged into trees branches while the skirts got caught on roots and thorns around their feet.
“Let’s set up camp here for the night, then,” were Endrin’s first words after leaving the tower mid-morning. They were also his last. Anders help set up a tent for the belongings and laid out a bedroll outside for himself, but didn’t bother changing. Then, ignoring the others, he sat down on his bedroll and thought about Karl while fiddling with his registration papers. Tavish swore twice, when his armor fell onto his foot and when his bedroll splashed in mud, but otherwise spoke to no one. Endrin hummed quietly to himself and did not make eye contact. No one had any real idea when or even if the others fell asleep, but they all laid down facing away from the fire pit anyway.
If Anders fell asleep, and he felt like he must have at some point, he did not stay that way long. It was dark when he opened his eyes and noticed that his heart was already racing. He thought for a moment that he had just woken from a nightmare that he couldn’t remember when he heard a loud clank from behind him.
“Andraste’s ass! What was that?”
“Quiet, you! You’ll wake them all.”
“If they were going to wake up, they would have already, thanks to the racket you two are making.”
“Will you all just shut up? And watch the other one’s armor, it’s by your left foot there.”
Anders was still trying to decide whether it was better to pretend to be asleep or to jump up and scare the bandits as they seemed somewhat incompetent and were probably not expecting to see a mage, when there was a roar beside him, followed by many sudden shouts of commotion. Anders ducked further under his bedroll, just in case.
There was quite a bit of screaming for quite a long time, and more cursing than Anders expected to hear. It sounded like one of the templars had decided that the bandits could be scared off easily, but had underestimated how many of them there were and found himself unarmed and slightly overwhelmed, so the other had pitched in to help. Anders decided to stay hidden as much to keep himself safe from the weapons as to keep himself safe from the templars wrath if he used magic against “innocent” humans. So he waited until most of the bustle had ended before turning over and peaking out towards the fire.
“Endrin?”
It was extremely difficult to see as the fire was almost out, but Anders could smell sweat and blood, and he could hear the sudden silence that didn’t bode well after Endrin’s name.
“Endrin? Come on, now, Endrin, not funny. Those bandits scared the shit out of me. I had no idea there were-“ Tavish rambled and broke off and sniffed. Anders could just barely see him swaying on his knees near his bedroll. The ground looked much lumpier than it had before, and much wetter.
“Damn it, Endrin, this isn’t how this was supposed to happen! Wake up, damn it! Stop fussing with me. It was a fight. It was only a fight. I never meant…” Tavish sniffed again, louder and messier than before. “It was never about mages and templars and duty and fuck it, Endrin, we’re friends. Nothing gets in the way of that. So you like her. Don’t leave me with this! Don’t… don’t…” Tavish fell over in a heap, sobbing. Endrin made no sound. Anders couldn’t move.
It took maybe half an hour, but eventually Tavish stilled from exhaustion and the noises stopped. Anders didn’t trust himself to move for nearly an hour after that, but simply looked around the camp as the pre-dawn sky began to show more clearly the dozen bandits that lay bloodied and scattered around their meager camp. They would have to turn around now. They would have to report Endrin’s…
Anders got up as quietly as he could, partly disgusted with himself, but also scared enough of losing his freedom again, of losing everything from something that was in no way his fault, that he took the cleanest-looking bandit and stripped him, taking his clothes and replacing them with his own robes, which he then smeared with the dead man’s blood. He then, very calmly, let a thin stream of fire from his hands burn the area around his bedroll, especially the bandit’s face and hands. Then he started running, determined to run all the way to Amaranthine if he had to, and fingering his registration, while trying not to think about Karl.
Five.
Mulit-Chapter, a bit long.
Rating: PG at max
Some implied pairings, but only Anders/Karl stands out. A few OC Wardens, who don't conflict with each other and don't play much role.
Ch. 5 - The Study Attempt
8 Wintermarch, 9:22 Dragon
It took the templars over a year to find him. Well, that was slightly untrue. Templars found him all the time, but templars aren’t very good at communicating with each other when it comes to apostates, especially when the apostate gives a different name every time he is caught. Templars on the road are also much easier to fool than templars within the tower. They can stop a mage’s powers of course, but very few will attempt to bind a mage’s feet, or even his hands. Anders would ask very solemnly to gather his things, remaining the pinnacle of politeness, and the templars, ever vigilant for the presence of mana sometimes took hours before they would realize that he had simply walked away in the other direction. Running required no mana whatsoever. The chantry didn’t train templars to deal with mages who didn’t fight back.
And so Anders kept on the move for well over a year and a half, never staying in one town for more than a couple months, and always careful to keep his magic to what was strictly necessary for healing, for cooking and for defense. He traveled with the chasind for a short time, but found himself very much an outsider and became lonely quickly. Anders had never thought that loneliness was a problem he would be likely to encounter, given how much he usually craved respite from the people around him, but being surrounded by people with whom he couldn’t easily communicate was another matter entirely. It held all the promise of freedom and company with none of the benefits of civilization or community. In the end, he left of his own accord after about two months. He ran into templars less than a week later, but gabbed at them in the chasind tongue until they simply started walking away. From then on, Anders preferred simply trickery as a means of escape over fighting or hiding. So far, it had worked quite well.
Then Rylock came along.
Rylock had not taken well to waking up without any armor, and had apparently gone on such a screaming rampage to Greagoir afterwards about privacy and gender issues in the tower that Greagoir had put in a request that transferred her to the Lothering chantry for some “time away from the claustrophobic effects of Kinloch Hold”. Lothering had transferred her to Highever soon after that, and then someone had decided that perhaps she would be better in a templar’s original function of hunting apostate mages. Evidently, she was looking for one in particular. It took her a year to find him.
Anders had only been in Denerim for two weeks and had just started to get used to the hustle of the capital. Plenty of mages wandered the streets, accompanied by templars as they walked into Wonders of Thedas, or else travelling with tranquil mages and hawking enchanted wares in the market district. Anders very occasionally saw templars leading a young child, crying and screaming, usually from the alienage, away to the chantry, or worse the city gates. No on questioned where they where going or why. No one needed to.
So far, Anders had managed to escape templar notice by hiding in the open. If he walked past a templar in the market district completely unafraid, or even better cheerful, then the templar never questioned his presence there. Everyone assumed that any mage unafraid of templars must have permission to be where they were. Anders held long religious debates with the guards outside the Denerim Chantry - one of whom had a lyrium addicition that was starting to show - and hawked his own form of wares in the market district for silver. The tower hadn’t taught him much in the way of spells that could be sold, but he was good with repairs and with healing - especially burns.
Rylock, however, saw through him at once. If the greeting had been any different, Anders might have been able to assume that she was merely overly suspicious and may have even been able to plead his case convincingly to the chantry templars. However, it was somewhat obvious to the entire district that she had other means of knowing Anders’ past.
“YOU!” she shrieked, so that everyone in the market district flinched with guilt, “YOU! They told me that you went south but I knew I would find you here! I know what you’re up to! I know what evil deeds you’ve got planned and I’m here to stop you in the name of the Maker himself!!” Rylock didn’t even notice when one of the ever-present children playing at the market stalls ran into her so hard that he knocked himself over.
Anders tried to look at the people around him to see if there was any way he could shift some of the blame, or at least some of the attention, but it was too clear from her deadlocked stare and accusing finger that she was shouting to him. So, Anders tried lying.
“I’m sorry, Ser Knight, I’m afraid I don’t-“ he started in his best quavering voice.
“Don’t you start lying to me mage!” Rylock snapped, “You cannot fool me twice! No mage wants to discuss his Harrowing! No mage ever just wants to talk! No mage would ever want-“ she stopped speaking so suddenly that she almost tripped herself from the effort of keeping the words in and swayed a moment in her armor. Well, it was clear that she remembered him. Anders wondered briefly whether in a different situation this might not have been a bad thing. But in the present, the best thing to do seemed to be to use her own outbursts against her.
“Look, ser, I really do apologize for any misunderstanding-“ Anders said as quickly as he could, glancing around for help he never expected to receive. To his delight and to his horror, help came in the form of the chantry guards.
“What’s going on here? The mages in the market district are accounted for. They are supervised. There’s no need-“ the younger of the two templar guards began
“Accounted for?!” Rylock broke in again. “This man is a wanted apostate from Kinloch Hold, on the run for months - years now - an apostate hiding under your noses and you don’t even have the decency as templars to check which mages in your district are supposed to be here and which aren’t? Did he lie to you, too? Present some forged note from the knight commander of Kinloch Hold giving him PERMISSION to be away from the tower? Or perhaps he claimed that he had come from Lothering and faked a letter from there?”
By this time, both templar guards as well as a large contingent of the city guard were uneasily closing in on the raving templar. Rylock took no heed of them, but rounded on Anders again.
“Come, mage! You’ve been caught and there’s no use in running away again. They’ll lock you up for sure now that you know where they’ve sent it. And I’ll make sure you’ll never get your dirty hands on it in your life, even if I have to take it to Val Royeaux myself!”
“I came here to work,” Anders said, looking at the city guards rather than Rylock, “I’m a healer. Nothing more. I can mend burns and cuts and broken bones, and I do a little repair work on the side. That’s all, I swear.”
“Dishonest as ever,” Rylock spat. “I knew I would find you here and now you prove me right. The Maker has led me here to stop you and now I shall fulfill that duty.” Her had suddenly tightened on the handle of her blade, though she didn’t pull it out. The chantry templar noticed, however and decided that now was perhaps a good time to try stepping in again.
“Why don’t I take you into the chantry where we can look at your registration then, ser, and if something looks amiss we’ll escort you back to the tower,” he said.
“Well, I don’t-” Anders started.
“He doesn’t have it!” Rylock shouted, “He never had any registration. He’s an apostate! I tell you I shall never forget that face!”
“I don’t have it with me!” Anders said again, much more quickly to get the words out before Rylock could drown him out again. “I don’t live in the district after all.”
“Mages are supposed to carry their registration on their person,” the chantry templar said, looking suddenly curious. “Surely you were told this upon leaving the tower.”
“Well, he wouldn’t have been, would he?” Rylock sneered, “Seeing as he never received registration papers and apostates don’t get the speech at the door.” Everyone ignored her.
“That was two years ago. You know me. Have I ever done anything-“ Anders said.
“It’s not about something you have or haven’t done,” the templar said, looking suspicious now. “It’s simple procedure is all. Now, perhaps…” he trailed off, glancing around at the watchful faces of merchants and mages and city guards, and doing his best to ignore Rylock’s furious, hissing breaths. “No, perhaps it would be best for me simply to take you back to the tower and clear this up with the Knight Commander there. Yes, I think-“
“I will take him,” Rylock volunteered at once. “I have been sent to find his sort, after all.” The templar squirmed very slightly, but stood his ground.
“No, I’ve been meaning to get down over to Redcliffe in any case. He will stay in the chantry tonight and leave first thing in the morning. Ser mage, please go into the chantry now. You will stay there for the night and be provided for. In the morning, I will go with you to collect your belongings,” he said. Then, he turned to face Rylock. “Now, I believe you came to the city with a duty, ser, and I would greatly appreciate it if you would kindly get on with it.”
Rylock huffed and spluttered, but knew there was no real argument to what he said. If he volunteered to bring Anders in, then he was well within his rights to do so. Every templar was a mage hunter, after all. Anders, having no choice in the matter was gently pushed into the chantry.
“Don’t let him get a hold of pen and paper,” he heard the templar whisper to a priestess by the door. “Just in case.”
-
Three days later, Anders was once again in a boat headed the wrong direction across Lake Calenhad. The templar had lied to Rylock for him about needing to get to Redcliffe and had taken him straight to the docks, and thus also the tower. He had been allowed to gather his things, though the templar had never asked to see registration and never questioned when Anders didn’t offer any.
“What was going to be your excuse for not having registration, then?” the templar asked once the boat docked in front of the tower. “Out of curiosity.”
“That one of the cats had pissed on it,” Anders said. He looked miserably up at the tower and wondered how he could ever have found the stones beautiful.
“And that you had just written for another and it hadn’t come through yet?” The templar laughed. “You know, I might have even believed you if you’d tried. My name is Harrith. I don’t know if we ever exchanged these pleasantries. I’m sorry if we didn’t.”
“They call me Anders.”
“But it isn’t your real name?” Harrith asked.
“It may as well be,” Anders said, “especially now.”
“And, er…” Harrith said, quietly enough that Kester, who was turning the boat around on the shore, couldn’t hear him, “what did you do to that templar to make her act that way?”
“Nothing!” Anders said, “Well, nothing she could pin to me in any case.”
“You’re a sly one, I’ll give you that,” Harrith said grinning. “Keep out of too much trouble. As long as you don’t do anything rash or harmful, a good number of templars won’t bother you. Most of us live with mages for a time. We understand you’re human, really. We’re not too different. No one should have to go against what the Makers has planned for them. Somehow, I think your plans may not lay here. So try not to piss off too many more templars on your journey. Now, I should get to Redcliffe, at least for a little while. I have a feeling that she’ll start asking questions if I don’t put in some appearance there. She’s got quite the memory for faces, doesn’t she?” And winking, Harrith climbed back into the boat and Kester pushed off the shore as the tower doors opened in invitation.
-
17 Justinian, 9:23 Dragon
The only really welcoming part of the tower was Karl. Karl had even after two years made sure that his bed remained unoccupied and the cat, now a large, fat, lazy thing that rarely left Karl’s mattress, had been well looked after. The Senior Enchanters welcomed him back, as did Finn who had been through his Harrowing a few months before. Knight Commander Greagoir didn’t say a word to him, but merely glared and pointed up the stairs. Irving, beside him, also didn’t speak, but nodded and smiled.
But as soon as the “hello”s and “welcome back”s were said, Anders felt trapped again. And for a year and a half now, he had been.
Knight Commander Greagoir was nothing if not sharp, and he had noticed that Anders’ was something of a flight risk. Anders had no way of knowing exactly how long ago the Knight Commander had noticed this about him, though he suspected it had been several years, but since Anders had now successfully tricked several of his templars into letting him walk right past their eyes, Greagoir had instituted some new security measures. Templars were not to be outside the tower or at the docks with their helmets on unless in battle. There were to be two templars stationed by the main tower doors at all times, as well as the usual templar outside. Also, he had not taken on any further female templars, though Anders couldn’t be certain whether this was actually Greagoir’s doing, or whether none had been sent to the tower for other reasons. Anders doubted that he would have noticed the heightened tensions in the tower if he hadn’t been away from it for so long.
The walls were maddening. The complacency was ingratiating. And the constant knowledge that he was being watched was infuriating.
“You could always apply to do research,” Karl said, “Or even for a transfer. You could try to get back to the Anderfels, if you wanted.”
“What makes you think that one tower is any better than another?” Anders replied.
“Maybe the Anderfels circle isn’t housed in a tower. Maybe they live in a garden and grow fruit and flowers with the templars.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you at all.”
“It would still be an escape of a sort,” Karl said. “An escape that I wouldn’t have to fret over.”
It was a conversation they had often, and one whose words rarely changed, though Anders knew that Karl had one day at a time been using these conversations to keep him in the tower. Every day Anders would start thinking about escape again, and every day Karl would say “stay with me” without ever using the words, and every day Anders couldn’t find the will to say no. Love is a prison with no walls, and a binding force that no one in its hold ever wants to escape. Anders would extol the virtues of freedom and tell of adventure and life - real life - in the cities he’d seen and the people he’d met, and Karl would listen politely, even eagerly, but if Anders ever spoke of leaving the tower again, Karl would take his hand and hold it gently and Anders knew he had crossed a line. Karl didn’t believe he could leave. He never believed that he could escape the templars, and he didn’t want the danger such actions posed. Karl only wanted what he already had. And if Anders was truthful with himself, he wasn’t sure what else he wanted either.
-
“I want to apply to study outside the tower.”
Knight Commander Greagoir’s entire face twitched, though Anders couldn’t be certain whether from rage or amusement.
“Study outside the tower is not granted lightly, as I’m sure you know. And it is purely for study. We do not generally permit mages to simply go live elsewhere under the condition that they have obtained templar permission to do so,” he said.
“Generally?” Anders asked, unable to stop himself.
“Ever,” Greagoir corrected.
“Well, I am aware of the chantry rules regarding mages residing for a time outside of the circle. I’ve been researching, you see,” Anders continued.
“That is supposed to surprise me?” Greagoir broke in.
“Doubtful, ser,” Anders answered back. “I’m pretty sure nothing much in the tower would surprise you.” Greagoir nodded, but remained silent. “I do in fact have a project proposal that would take me back to Denerim-“
“I am afraid that that is out of the question. We cannot allow further travel there at this time. Perhaps if there were somewhere else-“
“Well, Amaranthine would also do,” Anders cut Greagoir off. “It’s about how magic is treated and seen by city dwellers, by those accustomed to seeing mage robes on the tranquil, but not actual mages still in touch with the fade.”
“And I am supposed to trust you in a city the size of Amaranthine?” Greagoir said rather than asked.
“Have I proven myself untrustworthy in cities before?” Anders asked.
“I will set the clever wording aside and assume that you already know the answer to that question.” Greagoir responded.
“It really would be for research. Send a templar along with me, if that makes you feel better-”
“Somehow,” Greagoir said, stopping Anders with a raised hand, “the idea of one templar alone with you only makes me feel worse. Fill out the paperwork. It is your prerogative. I assume you have also researched all the requirements for such study and have most of the forms completed already. I shall speak to the first enchanter, as I would like to get my opinion on the matter to him before you go to him for backing - yes, I know that is your plan. You have already surmised that I am aware of most of what goes on in the tower. Now please, leave my office before this headache gets any worse.”
For once, Anders did as he was told.
-
First Enchanter Irving had a good number of tricks up his sleeve. Anders didn’t even need to tell him his plans, as Irving just waved them aside with a “Greagoir’s already been to see me and do you think I didn’t know this would come up eventually?”
“I thought I should go through the thing properly, First Enchanter,” Anders said, attempting to be sheepish while also trying not to laugh without much success at either. Irving smiled.
“There are always mages whose interests do not lie within the towers’ walls,” he said, “and usually they do better things for us if we give them permission to study than if we try to keep them contained until they break. Even Greagoir agrees that a broken mage is far too much of a mess to clean up if it can be avoided at a reasonable cost.”
“That’s perhaps not the most pleasant way of phrasing it…” Anders began.
“I would hardly think that you of all people would associate pleasantry with the tower,” Irving replied before Anders could finish. “Take your forms and give them to Greagoir with my blessing and my signature. He will protest and drill you, of course, but I would say you stand a fair chance of success.” Anders did his best not to skip from the room. He nearly even succeeded.
Karl was waiting outside for him and didn’t ask for the results of the discussion, but hugged him tightly for several long moments.
“You could petition to come, too, you know,” Anders whispered into Karl’s hair. “It might even make Greagoir feel better about the whole thing.”
“Two mages on the loose? What would make the Knight Commander happy about that?” Karl teased.
“Well, one of them would be responsible, you see, and he could keep tabs on the other. Make sure he didn’t try to escape or run away or anything like that.” Anders pulled back very slightly to rest his forehead against Karl’s. “The Knight Commander is an intelligent man. He would surely see the benefit of that plan.” They laughed together gently and Anders took Karl’s hand and walked with him down the main stairs.
“Do you want to turn those in?” Karl asked.
“They can wait for you,” Anders replied.
“But not forever.”
“A little while longer at least.”
It was two hours before Anders knocked on Greagoir’s door in a state of euphoria. He was so distracted that he only noticed the frantic-sounding shuffling and hushed voices coming from the other side of the door just before it opened.
“What is it? Oh, you.” Greagoir said only a little breathlessly. His armor was on, but the skirt was twisted at the bottom and his hair was disheveled. Anders opened his mouth, but Greagoir never gave him the chance to speak. “Well, give me your papers then and I’ll take a look. Mind you, I promise nothing, but- I, well- You’re done here. Go on. I have the papers.” And he shut the door.
Anders couldn’t stop smiling.
-
Anders didn’t ask how Irving had convinced Greagoir to sign off on his study. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The combined images of Knight Commander Tightwad and Ser Twisted-Skirt played in Anders’ mind whenever Greagoir was mentioned, so that he could not keep a straight face, no matter the circumstances.
It was another week before Greagoir gave Anders the official registration and assigned two templars to escort him to Amaranthine, where he was to be explicitly placed into chantry control to do his research for three months. Then the templars would come to escort him back to the tower. Anders didn’t like this plan, particularly, but it was the only one he was offered and after nearly two years Anders was willing to make compromises, at least in the short term. And so, after a wordless goodbye - which was still quite personal - to Karl, Anders walked down the stairs to meet his guards.
“Right, mage, we’ll be setting off as soon as you have your things, then,” said the templar on the right, who was the shorter of the two.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Anders said. “And I have all my things already. I’m a light traveler.”
The templar on the left laughed and Anders suddenly recognized him as the templar who had for years watched over his lessons with Torrin.
“We’re all set to head out then,” he said, “And my name is Endrin, in case you’ve forgotten, and this here is Tavish.”
“It’s good to meet you officially,” Anders said, “Call me Anders.”
“Let’s get out of here legally, shall we?” Endrin said with a wink, and waved them toward the main doors.
No one spoke on the boat ride to the Lake Calenhad docks, nor for the rest of the day’s journey east. Anders had nothing to say to his two guards, and they apparently had nothing to say to each other. He had known Endrin to be quiet - really, all templars had to be capable of staying quiet and alert for hours at a time as they watched over apprentices’ lessons - but there was a tension between the two templars that it took Anders several hours to notice. They did not look at each other, Anders or much of anything else around them as they walked, but only huffed and grunted occasionally when the path became especially steep or rocky. Anders’ mage robes were light and he knew how to keep them from becoming caught on bramble, but the heavy templar armor banged into trees branches while the skirts got caught on roots and thorns around their feet.
“Let’s set up camp here for the night, then,” were Endrin’s first words after leaving the tower mid-morning. They were also his last. Anders help set up a tent for the belongings and laid out a bedroll outside for himself, but didn’t bother changing. Then, ignoring the others, he sat down on his bedroll and thought about Karl while fiddling with his registration papers. Tavish swore twice, when his armor fell onto his foot and when his bedroll splashed in mud, but otherwise spoke to no one. Endrin hummed quietly to himself and did not make eye contact. No one had any real idea when or even if the others fell asleep, but they all laid down facing away from the fire pit anyway.
If Anders fell asleep, and he felt like he must have at some point, he did not stay that way long. It was dark when he opened his eyes and noticed that his heart was already racing. He thought for a moment that he had just woken from a nightmare that he couldn’t remember when he heard a loud clank from behind him.
“Andraste’s ass! What was that?”
“Quiet, you! You’ll wake them all.”
“If they were going to wake up, they would have already, thanks to the racket you two are making.”
“Will you all just shut up? And watch the other one’s armor, it’s by your left foot there.”
Anders was still trying to decide whether it was better to pretend to be asleep or to jump up and scare the bandits as they seemed somewhat incompetent and were probably not expecting to see a mage, when there was a roar beside him, followed by many sudden shouts of commotion. Anders ducked further under his bedroll, just in case.
There was quite a bit of screaming for quite a long time, and more cursing than Anders expected to hear. It sounded like one of the templars had decided that the bandits could be scared off easily, but had underestimated how many of them there were and found himself unarmed and slightly overwhelmed, so the other had pitched in to help. Anders decided to stay hidden as much to keep himself safe from the weapons as to keep himself safe from the templars wrath if he used magic against “innocent” humans. So he waited until most of the bustle had ended before turning over and peaking out towards the fire.
“Endrin?”
It was extremely difficult to see as the fire was almost out, but Anders could smell sweat and blood, and he could hear the sudden silence that didn’t bode well after Endrin’s name.
“Endrin? Come on, now, Endrin, not funny. Those bandits scared the shit out of me. I had no idea there were-“ Tavish rambled and broke off and sniffed. Anders could just barely see him swaying on his knees near his bedroll. The ground looked much lumpier than it had before, and much wetter.
“Damn it, Endrin, this isn’t how this was supposed to happen! Wake up, damn it! Stop fussing with me. It was a fight. It was only a fight. I never meant…” Tavish sniffed again, louder and messier than before. “It was never about mages and templars and duty and fuck it, Endrin, we’re friends. Nothing gets in the way of that. So you like her. Don’t leave me with this! Don’t… don’t…” Tavish fell over in a heap, sobbing. Endrin made no sound. Anders couldn’t move.
It took maybe half an hour, but eventually Tavish stilled from exhaustion and the noises stopped. Anders didn’t trust himself to move for nearly an hour after that, but simply looked around the camp as the pre-dawn sky began to show more clearly the dozen bandits that lay bloodied and scattered around their meager camp. They would have to turn around now. They would have to report Endrin’s…
Anders got up as quietly as he could, partly disgusted with himself, but also scared enough of losing his freedom again, of losing everything from something that was in no way his fault, that he took the cleanest-looking bandit and stripped him, taking his clothes and replacing them with his own robes, which he then smeared with the dead man’s blood. He then, very calmly, let a thin stream of fire from his hands burn the area around his bedroll, especially the bandit’s face and hands. Then he started running, determined to run all the way to Amaranthine if he had to, and fingering his registration, while trying not to think about Karl.
Five.