Disclaimer: Dragon Age: Origins and anything associated with it are the property of Bioware and EA. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Sorry this has taken me so long, I kept getting stuck on the scenes within, rewriting them. Regardless, please enjoy!

Of Dogs and Men

Chapter 3: Kinloch Hold

Natia didn't know what to think of their newest recruit. She understood that he'd just lost his family, and that must weigh heavily on him, but a single family betraying another single family? That was practically tame by Orzammar standards, wasn't it the same up here on the surface? Still, he hadn't been the jovial person she'd quickly bonded with back at the castle, and she couldn't blame him.

It was with that in mind that she kept her distance as the group travelled. It would be nice to have a friend up here on the surface, instead of just another companion. Friends didn't typically betray other friends; Leske had never betrayed her, though Stone only knew where the idiot dwarf was nowadays. But it had been half a week since the group had left the castle, and Natia still didn't know if she should bring it up or not. Humans were sodding confusing.

Apparently Duncan hadn't really known what to do either, and had simply continued to train her in the various survival skills native to the surface whenever they made camp. He'd invited Aedan to join them, and for the first few days he'd refused. Natia could see the look on his face; he would help out: gathering wood, tending the fire, keeping watch and more, but his eyes were always just blankly staring out in front of him, the tasks done reflexively. Once they'd reached the old Tevinter Highway and were camped out beneath it, however, he'd seen the snares that Duncan had been instructing her on and had ambled over. Silently, he snagged a spare length of the wire they had been working with and began twisting and shaping it.

"An odd snare Bailey taught me. Said she learned it in Antiva; it's good for small game, rabbits and the like."

And just like that, he seemed to rejoin her and Duncan. He still wouldn't smile, but he went about his tasks efficiently and aware. Over the next few days, as they travelled south, Natia tried to get him to speak more, occasionally sharing a tidbit about living in Orzammar. She was midway through telling him about an old peddler who'd offered to buy her teeth when Duncan suddenly stilled and held up his hand. She and Aedan fell silent; trying to catch whatever had stopped the older warden.

Quietly, the old man shook his head and spoke, "Darkspawn. Wardens can sense them; it is something you will learn in time. It's a small pack, about eight hundred meters to the east and moving closer. There are twelve…no, fourteen of them. Let's find a good spot to ambush them."

Natia was confused, and as the group found a mound of rubble to descend from the Highway, she caught Duncan's attention and spoke quietly, "I thought they were all gettin' together down in those Wilds of yours. What're they doin' over here?"

As the party moved quickly, seeking a point to surprise the foul creatures, Duncan replied, "The horde is indeed down in the Korcari Wilds, but there are isolated pockets of darkspawn sprouting up wherever they can find or make an entrance to the surface.

Eventually finding a small gulch that would funnel them in, Duncan began to speak, "Alright, they are approximately four hundred meters off and now heading directly for us. I'm going to be at the end of the gulch; the darkspawn will sense me and will rush for me directly, that will channel them in. Natia, I want you up on the overlooking rocks, midway between the point they'll enter and the point I'll be at. Aedan, hide up on the hill close to the side they're coming from. Now, I will draw them in. Aedan, once they are all in the gulch, you and Fang get behind them and attack, the hammer to my anvil. Natia, once he begins, I want you to target their leader and any mages they may have and kill them first. Oh and Aedan, instruct Fang to target their armor and limbs, but not to bite their flesh. The darkspawn taint is lethally toxic."

It took Natia a few moments to climb the stacked rocks. They were large slabs that lurched out of the steep hill behind her, forming a nearly-vertical wall to the bottom of the little ravine. Lying down on her chest, she removed and readied her crossbow, laying the extra bolts in their quiver down to her side. She looked down and out; watching as Duncan stood among forest's detritus at the base of the gulch, withdrawing his sword and dagger. Aedan she could see, had moved up the hill to her left, and was crouching to the side of a thick tree, Fang hunkered down beside him. The young man's head was turned downhill, keeping an eye on the gulch's entrance opposite Duncan, his own sword and dagger already in hand.

They didn't have to wait long, and the sounds of running feet trampling the underbrush soon reached Natia's ears. She looked down, checking once more on the others. Duncan had steeled himself, preparing to meet his enemies. Aedan seemed to be gritting his teeth and tensing up; Natia hoped he would wait for the opportune moment. She swung her gaze toward the woods to her left, and prepared to take aim, slowing her breathing.

There, the first of the darkspawn had entered her vision. It was shaped like a human, and she vaguely remembered her fellow casteless talking about the different kinds. This must be a hurlock, then. It began sprinting towards Duncan, screaming with its sword out, and was followed by three more of its kind. One of them, she noted, was wearing heavier armor and a horned helm. That must be the leader. She took aim and kept an eye on Aedan, who would spring the trap. Not yet…not yet… They weren't all out yet.

Fortunately he held, and the rest of the darkspawn came barreling out of the underbrush. Smaller than their larger cousins, they were her size and from what she had heard, the most common in the deep roads. Genlocks. Some of them, she noted, were carrying bows and daggers. Rogues, then, like her. As soon as the tenth genlock had passed him, Aedan leapt up, rushing down the hill with a bellow.

At his cry, Natia loosed a bolt down at the hurlock's leader, hitting it in the gap between its helmet and its chestplate. It didn't go down, however, but staggered and turned to face her, shouting out. Natia quickly cranked the loading mechanism and replaced the bolt. Taking aim, a second bolt flew out and pierced the hurlock in its right eye, knocking it to the ground and out of the fight. Reloading, she began to pick a new target when the action at the back of the pack caught her eye. The only time she'd seen Aedan in combat had been when they were all fleeing the castle, and the night had been too dark to take in all the details. Now though…

Fang wasn't even attacking, merely covering his unprotected back. The young man was dashing from genlock to genlock, slashing some, piercing others, kicking a few to the ground, and oh…ouch…apparently bisecting one very unfortunate rogue. So caught up in watching, she almost didn't notice one of the genlocks sneaking up on her. As it made the final lunge to stab her, she grappled and rolled with it, coming up on top. Ancestors, the bugger was ugly! Immediately drawing her dagger, she knocked its arm to the side and sliced down, opening its throat.

Standing up, she quickly retrieved her crossbow and looked below for a target, only to realize that between Duncan and Aedan, the remaining darkspawn had been cut to pieces. She sighed inaudibly. The battle hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped, but she'd been the one to kill the leader. That thought brought a wisp of a smile to her face. Climbing down, she rejoined the others. Duncan was waiting.

"Well fought, the both of you. Natia, killing the vanguard threw them in disarray, good work. Next time, keep your focus and be more aware of your surroundings. Aedan, I know you're angry now, and you certainly have cause to be, but I will not abide you losing your head to some inane blood rage. Control yourself. Now come, the both of you. We must burn the corpses before we leave to spare the land from the taint, and we still have a ways to travel."

Another two days passed before Duncan directed them to get off the Highway and begin heading west. Puzzled, but trusting the old warden's knowledge of the land, Natia and Aedan quickly followed him. After a bit of travel, they camped for the night off in a small copse of trees. There, Duncan finally told him their next destination: The Circle of Magi's tower, Kinloch Hold. He hoped to gather more mages for both the wardens and the King's army down south.

It was nearly noon the next day before they could see Kinloch Hold's spire in the distance, at once imposing and mysterious. Once the group had reached the shores of Lake Calenhad, their view was unobstructed, and both the recruits were gazing in admiration. Natia had no idea surface dwellings could be built as such, and Aedan hadn't seen the tower in years, and had never been inside. What became quickly apparent to his eyes hadn't occurred to the young man when he was but a boy travelling with his father and the teryn's men.

Aedan, at the sight of the first major stepping stone past Castle Highever, began to show a glimmer of his jovial self, "It really is a giant phallic symbol, isn't it? Kind of like Ferelden has a hard-on." Natia had to stifle her laughter, and became wholly unable to get the image out of her mind.

"Aedan!" Duncan shook his head, but both recruits could hear him chuckling under his breath, "Now, the both of you, when we get inside I will be doing the talking. I want the two of you to keep your eyes out for potential recruits. The First Enchanter and Knight Commander will likely offer one as a way to appease us, but if possible, I'd like to leave with three or four for the wardens, and as many as we can get to join the army."

Natia was incredulous, especially after the pair of fiascos her and Aedan's recruitment had become, "And jus' what should we be lookin' for? Stone! I've never even seen a mage."

Duncan smiled at the two, "Perhaps I should have spoken differently, I would like you to watch, yes, but mostly I want you to be listening. The mages here have for the most part lived their entire lives in this tower. And living in such close quarters for so long will always create three things: boredom, contempt, and gossip. It is the last I wish you to be listening to, as fickle as it can be."

Aedan was similarly incredulous, "So, what? Are the mages always comparing their staff sizes or something?"

"Hardly. But there will be rumors of who is advancing quickly, who is not, whether someone is dangerous or just plain different. I believe you get the idea."

Aedan stood pensively for a moment, his thoughts turned inwards. "…That's why you sent Natia with me, back at Highever, isn't it Commander?"

Natia's eyes opened widely, and she waved her hands, "Hey, don't look a' me! It was his idea!"

Oh, boy, he was going to be pissed.

Duncan, however, merely gave Aedan a serious nod, "Indeed. Deceitful as it was, wardens do whatever we must to stop the Blight. That is our only duty, however tasteful it may or may not be."

"I don't like it, but it makes sense, I suppose."

"A common attitude amongst the wardens. Keep it; it will serve you well."

The foursome strode down the hill towards the dock laying under the broken causeway. Duncan seemed to know the ferryman, but Natia was looking forlornly at the ruined bridge, and despairingly at the little boat that sat under it. Quietly, she tugged on Aedan's gauntlet.

"So…you've done this 'afore, aye? Goin' in one of those wooden contraptions?"

The young man gave her a tired smile, the first real one she'd seen since the betrayal. "Yes, Natia. They're called boats, and they come in all shapes and sizes. Surfacers use them to move across the water."

She pulled her arm back and punched his lightly, "I know that! I know that it's a boat, I mean. It's jus'…it's so little! You're sure it's safe?"

"Just sit in the middle, you won't fall out there."

"S'pose so. We dwarves ain't exactly known fer our brilliant swimmin' skills."

Her fears about the large expanse of water eventually proved groundless, but just to be sure, she crawled to the exact middle of the boat and sat down, wrapping her arms around her legs. Aedan had laughed a bit at the sight of her, but she'd be the one laughing when he fell overboard. Fang calmly padded over and sat down beside her, resting his head on her feet.

Soon enough for the two men, but not soon enough for Natia, the ride was over, and the group left the boat and paused to look up the tower, noting the distinct lack of windows and massive stone buttresses keeping it upright. As Duncan strode forward towards a pair of doors at the base, Natia and Aedan quickly jogged to catch up.

The inside wasn't quite as awe-inspiring as the rest, but it was still an impressive display. Templars stood around, guarding the exit, and the three could see a number of large paintings hidden behind the numerous small columns. The ceiling was vaulted high overhead, and gave the impression of open space despite the close confines. Off to their left, in one of the alcoves, a bored-looking girl stood amongst various packs, clothing, and equipment. Aedan, spotting this quartermaster, for that must surely be what she was, turned to Duncan, "Commander, with your permission, I'm going to see if I can find some travelling equipment."

Natia watched as the older warden nodded to the young man, and Aedan and Fang split off from her and Duncan, the two of them striding over to the suddenly perky girl manning the supplies. She followed Duncan, however, when he moved over to one of the templars guarding the doors inward and asked to be taken the First Enchanter, a man named Irving. Nodding, the guard directed a much younger templar without a helmet to lead them up.

The young templar was a man named Cullen, and as polite as he was, Natia couldn't help but want to shut him up. The kid talked incessantly. About the mages, the Grey Wardens, asking for news of the war, everything! She supposed that this had been what Duncan spoke of, but Stone! She was this close to pulling her crossbow off her back and threatening to bolt his mouth closed when they reached the First Enchanter's office.

Cullen departed, and Natia looked in the doorway to see a pair of older men. The elder was in a long, green robe, and had a whole, fuzzy beard. The other was wearing a more ornate version of the armor she'd seen all the templars wearing. The two were conversing casually, clearly passing the time until the wardens arrived. Interesting, it looked like news really did travel fast here. Natia, as instructed, remained silent and watched as Duncan took the lead, "Irving, Greagoir, it's good to see the both of you again."

The robed one spoke as Duncan shook his hand before the commander turned to the armored man and repeated the gesture, "Ah, Duncan. I imagine asking how well you are doing would be a fruitless endeavor, hmm?"

"My apologies, Irving, but yes. If there's one thing this Blight has done, it's robbed my sleep from me."

"And who is this, who stands beside you so? A Warden Recruit perhaps?"

"Indeed. Irving, Greagoir, I present to you to Natia Brosca, of Orzammar. My second recruit is down at the quartermaster's getting some much needed travelling equipment; Aedan Cousland, of Highever."

The armored man, Greagoir finally spoke up, his face and tone incredulous, "You've recruited Bryce's youngest? I cannot imagine him agreeing…"

Duncan frowned and his countenance darkened, "Then the news has not yet reached you. Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor, waiting until the teryn's men departed for the Wilds before attacking in the dead of night. The teryn is dead and the teryna is, Maker willing, safely on her way to Denerim. Fergus leads Highever's host to Ostagar, and I do not know if he has received the news. Aedan has, obviously, joined the wardens."

The two men were openly shocked, but they mastered themselves and the armored man, Greagoir, continued in short order, "Grave news indeed. I will offer prayers for those lost and ask our revered mother to do the same. But are you positive this is a Blight, Duncan? What leads you to believe it so?"

"I'm sorry, Greagoir, but that is a matter for the Grey Wardens to know. Please, simply listen when I tell you that all wardens across Thedas are sure this is a true Blight."

The old mage had been silent, but here he spoke up, "And I take it that is what has brought you to our lovely tower here?"

"Indeed, I am seeking further recruits for the wardens, and I ask that any other mages you can spare be sent south to reinforce the army at Ostagar."

The two old men erupted into a bout of noise, each clamoring to speak. Suddenly, Natia caught movement in the corner of her eye and turned her head towards the doorway, where an elven mage walked into the room before pausing at the argument and holding back. She had incredibly white hair, done up behind her with a pair of long bangs, even though she was clearly young. Icy blue eyes caught Natia's gaze, and beside them, a thin scar that ran up across her lips and doubled back to cross her right eye and bisect the eyebrow above it. She was wearing the basic robes Natia had seen on most of the mages she'd passed. The First Enchanter and the Templar-Commander, caught up in their discussion, however, took no heed of her.

"Many have already gone to Ostagar. Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages have already left. We have committed enough of our own to this war effort!"

"Your own? Since when have you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you simply afraid to let the mages out of Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their maker-given powers?"

"How dare you suggest-"

Duncan quickly stepped to the fore, gesturing to the new arrival both men had overlooked, "Gentlemen please, Irving, someone is here to see you."

The elven girl finally spoke up, "You sent for me, first enchanter?"

"Ah, if it isn't our new sister in the circle." The old mage looked away from Duncan, facing the young mage fully and directing an inquisitive gaze upon her. The young mage shrugged it off, however, and Irving continued, "Ah, my apologies Greagoir, Duncan, this will take but a moment. Neria, may I present to you Duncan of the Grey Wardens, and one of his recruits. Wardens, Neria Surana, our most recently harrowed mage. Congratulations, dear girl."

"Pleased to meet you, wardens."

The Templar-Commander had also turned to face her, and bore the ghost of a smile on his face, "Well Irving, you're obviously busy. We will discuss this later. And Neria, well done." Briefly nodding to the rest of the room's occupants, he turned and strode out of the office.

Irving picked up, "You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect? Duncan is recruiting mages to join the King's army at Ostagar."

"Who are we fighting?"

The old warden's countenance darkened, "The darkspawn threat grows in the south. We need all the help we can get."

Neria's face was one of mixed confusion and horror, "What do you mean? I thought the Grey Wardens defeated the darkspawn?"

Duncan's arms crossed, and he shifted from one foot to the other. His voice took on the same tone he used when he was teaching her about life on the surface, "Not permanently. And the power you mages wield is an asset to any army. Your spells are very effective against large packs of mindless darkspawn. I fear if we don't drive them back now, we may see the true horror of a Blight."

The first enchanter spread his arms wide, cutting Duncan off, "Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talk of Blights and darkspawn. This is a happy day for her."

Duncan turned to Irving, shrugging his shoulders and cocking an eyebrow, "We live in troubled times, my friend."

"We should seize moments of levity, especially in troubled times." Turning to Neria, "The Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the circle of magi.

At this, the passive expression on the elf's face submerged to be replaced with disgust and resentment, "My leash, you mean."

"Now, now. Child, it's not that bad."

Duncan has turned an inquisitive gaze upon the old mage, "I'm sorry, but what is this phylactery?"

Irving gave a wary glance at the young elf before explaining, "Blood is taken from every mage as they first come to the tower and is preserved in special vials."

Duncan recoiled, "The Chantry uses blood magic to track down apostates?"

Irving raised his hands, placating, "No, no, the blood is not a component in any spell. The templars can sense mages, it's an ability they train to use. By focusing this ability on a phylactery, the templars can sense where that specific mage is."

"I assume this blood is not always taken willingly when mages arrive."

Irving shrugged, his shoulders weary but unbroken, "We have little choice. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove that we are strong enough to use that power responsibly."

"I will require, Irving, that anyone I recruit or conscript have their phylactery destroyed. I cannot have wardens subject to the control of the Chantry."

Natia could see the calculating gleam appear in the old mage's eyes even from where she stood, "I will discuss it with Greagoir once the three of us can speak again; it is not a matter that new mages should be concerning themselves with." Striding over to his desk for moment, the old mage picked up a bundle and approached Neria, offering them to her, "Here, I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."

"Thank you sir."

"It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the rite. Now then, take your time to rest, or study in the library. The day is yours."

The passive expression disappeared again, but this time it was replaced by a soft smirk, "Don't suppose I can take a jaunt outside the tower, huh?"

Irving frowned, but the laughter that accompanied his tone suggested it was an old argument, "Not a chance."

With that, Duncan turned to Natia and spoke, "As Irving and I have matters to discuss, Natia, you're free to leave us old men to our talking."

Irving nodded, agreeing, "Of course. Duncan, I've seen to it that the guest quarters on this floor be prepared for you and your recruits. Neria, would you be so kind as to escort Miss Brosca there?"

"Of course, first enchanter."

"The guest quarters are one the eastern side, close to the library. Now, if you'll both excuse us, Duncan and I have matters to discuss with Greagoir."

With that, Natia followed Neria out into the hallway. The elven mage seemed put off, but just smiled and led the way. Still, she didn't have to wait long before the young mage spoke up, "Natia, right? So, have you heard anything more about the army down south? We're all dying for news cooped up in here."

"Not much, I'm a new recruit, so I guess'll see once I get there."

"Oh…"

Well, that ended quickly. Okay, how to keep her talking? "The firs' enchanter said you're harrowed? What's that mean?"

Neria tensed for a moment, but seemed to think better of it and relaxed, beginning to speak, "Yes, it's a test. All the apprentices have to pass it to become a full mage; you know, prove we can resist the temptation of forbidden magics. The only other options are death or worse, tranquility."

"What's tranquility, 'nd why's it worse 'n death?"

Here, her face once again lost that passive façade and Natia could see the traces of anger and frustration across it, "The rite of tranquility cuts you off from the fade- so no more magic, but also no more dreams and no more emotions. All those bloody Chantry-lovers want nothing to do with magic, so a lot of them end up volunteering for it. Bloody idiots."

"I take it ye know some of 'em what want to do this?"

"Not personally, but you can always hear them praying in the chantry. All magic is evil, I hate my life, Maker save us, and so on and so forth."

"I'm guessing that's not exactly a prime location to hang around. So what do you mages do around here?"

"Mostly read and study. The library's extensive, so it's where most of us pass our days. If I may, would you tell me about the Grey Wardens?"

"S'not much to tell, really, I'm only a recruit. But it seems a lot like the Legion of the Dead back'n Orzammar, cast away everything an' swear to kill the darkspawn."

All of a sudden, another young mage ran up, somewhat out of breath. Natia and Neria both paused and waited for the young man to stop panting. Collecting himself, he addressed Neria, "I'm…glad I caught up to you! Are you done…talking with Irving?"

"Going through another personal crisis, are we Jowan? Natia, I'd be delighted to speak later, but it seems I have to take care of this one. The guest quarters are just ahead on your left."

"Of course." Walking a few paces around the bend, Natia quickly drew to the side and pressed her ear near the wall, hoping to catch the rest of the conversation.

"Very funny. I need to talk to you. You remember what we discussed this morning?"

"Why are you whispering? It looks very suspicious."

"Shhh! I just want to make sure we aren't overheard. We should go somewhere else. I don't feel safe here."

"You're starting to worry me, Jowan."

"I've been…troubled. I'll explain. Come with me, please."

Well, that sounded juicy. Natia wanted to head down and see what Aedan had gotten up to, but figured following the pair of mages could be equally rewarding. Besides, Aedan wasn't going anywhere, she's check in on him once she was done.

With a clear task at hand, Aedan was finally able to focus. The past week had been filled with long days and longer nights. With a straightforward task drawing his attention, he could put everything out of his mind for the moment. The quartermaster had been quite helpful, and Aedan had managed to haggle a good price for one of the templars' travelling packs. It contained all the gear he would need travel with: tent, sleeping roll, cooking and basic hunting and medical supplies. The pack itself could be given to Natia, who had been hauling a rucksack around. Another bit of bartering netted him a pair of tunics and breeches.

In between acquiring supplies, he'd been asking about recent news around the tower. There hadn't been many Templars journeying out, so the young quartermaster had been somewhat bored recently. However, the juicy bits of gossip were about a newly harrowed mage and the Libertarians, whoever they were. Apparently with little news of the darkspawn incursion, many of the mages were becoming more vocal in their beliefs as to the role of the Circle. Some wanted to go fight, others to isolate themselves. Still others would follow the Chantry, some wanted to overthrow it. For the young man, the political intrigue behind the scenes was like a bucket of cold water, painfully refreshing. It unwittingly brought his thoughts back to Highever, and he had to shake his head to clear it. At his side, Fang whimpered softly and pushed his head into Aedan's hand.

In between chatting, Aedan snagged a number of dried and wrapped rations. Mostly jerky and hardtack, along with a couple tins of preserves. Hunting and foraging would generally suffice, but having reserves was just plain common sense. He was in the midst of paying for these last bits when he heard the footsteps of his dwarven companion. Finishing up and putting the supplies away in his pack, he turned and saw Natia looking at the varying enchanted bolts stacked up in cases. The curvy dwarf was leaning over them, examining, even as her right hand idly played with a knife, flipping it about.

Coughing lightly, Aedan grabbed her attention and tossed her the basic travelling pack with the Templar's symbol sewn into it. She looked up curiously and he spoke, "Bag of holding. The templars use them as travelling packs when they're out of the tower. It had all the gear I needed, but I don't need the pack itself. Figured you might."

The dwarf strung it about her waist, as her rucksack was not in sight, "Thanks. Oughtta be careful, though. Gift like this…Ye migh' give a girl ideas, ye know? An' I ain't no hunter."

"You're welcome, but what does hunting have to do with it?" Some bit of dwarven culture, perhaps?

"Ye know, a noble hunter. Girl looki-" Bang!

Aedan, Natia, and Fang's head all swiveled immediately to the tower doors. They'd been thrown open forcefully, and several templars were leading a bound mage into the tower proper. The mage was a scruffy blonde man in robes. And as he crossed the threshold, the mage paused and seemed to sigh to himself. The templars didn't take kindly to that, and the one behind him shoved him forward with one gauntleted fist.

"Get going Anders, you know what to do."

"Oh come on, fellows? Can't a guy just take a stroll out and about? I'd'a been back before tea time, honest!"

"Oh really. And I suppose the last five times were just a stroll across the lake, eh?"

"Of course! I'm a nature lover. Maker, but I love the smell of oak in the morning! Gets me all tingly, you know, on the inside."

Seeing Anders about to be led away, Aedan quickly turned to Natia and spoke in a rushed whisper, "What do you think?"

"About what? Him?"

"Yeah. Look, you've seen how many templars are guarding this place. If he's really managed to escape six times, maybe Duncan would be interested. Go find him, quickly, and tell him to ask the First Enchanter about a mage named Anders. Mention the number of times he's escaped, I'll stall them here."

"Sure." The curvy dwarf sped off at a brisk walk, fortunately attracting little notice. Once she was out of the room, Aedan strolled over to the foursome, planting a wide grin on his face and breaking out the charm.

"Salutations, mage hunting templar knight sers!"

"And who are you?"

"Just a Grey Warden inserting my incredibly handsome nose where it doesn't belong. So who is he? An apostate?"

The templar interposed himself between Aedan and the mage, raising one hand to bar the way, "His name's Anders, warden, and he's likely a blood mage. I'd advise you to stand back. The Knight Commander and First Enchanter will be able to tell for sure."

"Really! He doesn't look very much like a blood mage. Not that I've ever seen one, mind you, but I imagine they'd kind of stand out."

"It's not the ki-"

His grin firmly entrenched, Aedan ignored the Templar and called out, "Ho there, Anders! Are you a blood mage?"

"Of course not!"

Aedan nodded sagely, "Well if you were, you certainly wouldn't admit it, but I bet its left its evil mark on you, so come on, what've you got? Webbed feet, perchance? An extra finger maybe? Hey, how about a second cock! That'd come in handy I reckon."

Anders had begun warming up, but he recoiled at the last idea, "What! No! Nothing of the sort! I'm a perfectly normal not-evil mage!"

"There must be something! Come on, out with it!"

Releasing a very put-upon sigh, the mage held his manacled hands up, "Alright. I confess! All of my incredibly dark and malevolent powers are contained in my shiny new earring."

Aedan just balled one fist and bounced it off the palm of his other in triumph, "Well now, if that's not a sign of supremely evil demonic possession, I don't know what is!"

The Templar just sighed, clearly exasperated, "And clearly you don't, warden. The signs of a blood mage are never overt."

"Aha! So it's all on the inside is it? Well I heard you earlier, blood mage! Getting all tingly for the trees. Does the sight of hardwood terrify you so that you must delve into forbidden magics?

"That will be enough, Aedan."

Oh good, Duncan was here! "On an unrelated note, my compliments! That is indeed a very shiny earring."

"Aedan!"

Oh, right, Duncan was here. Time to cut the act, then. "Sorry, Commander."

"Irving, is this Anders a blood mage?"

The old mage raised his hand, pausing, and Anders froze and began to glow in a series of blues, greens, purples, and whites. Soon, Irving lowered his hand and opened his eyes, and Anders ceased glowing, "No, I can sense no taint of blood magic about him, and Anders has never shown an inclination toward the forbidden arts; just an utter disregard for life in the tower. Why?"

"If he is skilled, perhaps I may be able to make use of him."

Irving crossed his arms, giving the impression of a hen ruffling its feathers, "He's harrowed, and the last I evaluated him, he showed fair potential in the Primal and Creation Schools. Anders! I assume you've continued your studies on your own? Well?"

The rogue mage was seemingly resigned, and his voice came out quietly, "You're correct, first enchanter. I've been progressing with the Creation and Primal Schools."

"So, Irving, what is to become of him?"

"As he isn't and has never shown himself to be a blood mage, he will once more be incarcerated for a time. Hopefully, the lesson will stick."

"And why not simply make him tranquil?"

The first enchanter's voice was cold and harsh, "The rite of tranquility is only for volunteers and those who delve into the forbidden arts.

"And would you be willing to relinquish him to the wardens instead?"

Irving didn't react at all, clearly he'd been expecting it and he simply paused, considering, "Hmm…"

Their conversation would have to be put on hold, however, as the Knight Commander entered the fray. As the two heads of the Circle began to argue, Duncan motioned for Aedan and Natia to join him, and the pair walked over. "This may take a while. Why don't the both of you head up to our quarters. If all goes well, I will rejoin you with Anders in a short time."

Well, that had been particularly interesting. Admittedly, Neria was actually having almost as much trouble believing that Jowan had actually found someone as she had believing in their plan to escape. And of course, by listening she'd gotten involved. Damnation.

Heading back along the familiar hallways, Neria once more paused before entering the First Enchanter's office. Irving was at his desk, going over something or other, and at her arrival, looked up and beckoned her in absently, "Ah, Neria. Welcome, I trust you saw Miss Brosca to their quarters? What do you think of our guests?"

"Yes. But, if I may, why did you ask me to do that?"

The old mage shifted a bit, his tone apologetic, "I wanted you to meet Duncan, actually. He's a most honorable man."

"Natia and I…we spoke a little. I'd like to hear more."

"I'm glad you did. She must have told you about the grey wardens; we can learn much from them. Alright, out with it child. Something has you quite worried."

Neria paused and hesitantly wrung her fingers for a moment before speaking in a hushed voice, "Jowan says that he's going to be made tranquil…"

The old mage looked up from the books cluttering his desk and swung a pair of gimlet eyes in her direction, "And just how does he know this? I suppose that initiate he dallies about with told him thus." Neria's shocked look must have been apparent for he continued, "You think I didn't know? I did not become first enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut."

Well, if there was no point in hiding it, "Yes, Lily was the one to tell him."

Irving sighed, "Lily should know better than to tell Jowan, and the templars and priests should have been more discreet around her. But assigning blame at this point is meaningless. Jowan knows, and nothing can be done about that."

"That's not what he thinks. Jowan plans to escape the circle to avoid being made tranquil!"

Irving's countenance shifted, his eyes taking on a calculating gleam, "Oh, interesting…what more do you know?"

"I only know that he plans on destroying his phylactery"

Irving put one hand to his jaw, scratching his beard, "And I suppose his lady friend is involved. Yes, she must be helping him. She would know more about the repository than he would. Do you know anything else?"

"No, Lily wanted my oath of assistance before she would tell me more."

"I suspected Lily might tell him of the impending rite if she found out. But I never would have expected they would have the gall to break into the repository."

"So…what will become of Jowan?"

"Reporting him to Greagoir and the templars will accomplish nothing beyond what is already planned. If the Circle must punish one of its own, I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy. Lily will not walk free while my apprentice suffers."

But that didn't solve the original problem at all! Neria stepped forward, her arms spread and asked, "But why is he going to be made tranquil in the first place! Why not simply tell them she was involved and turn him from this path?"

Irving had stood as well, and now he rested both hand on the back of his chair, using it to support himself. Quietly, he shook his head and caught Neria's eyes, "If we mention her involvement the Chantry will say that she was framed. No she must be caught in the act."

Neria's arms fell to her sides, defeated, "I…I suppose you are right, the Chantry would do the same to us."

"If you want to survive you must learn the rules and realize that sometimes sacrifices are necessary. Jowan will become tranquil, but Lily must also face the consequences of her actions. How did you learn of their plan? Do they trust you?"

"Jowan told me their intentions, but I don't know the plan."

"Then do this, learn the plan and offer to help carry it out. With solid proof of their crime, we can act."

Well then, there was nothing for it. She'd betrayed her friend just to hear that not only would he be punished, but so would the girl he loved. Damnation. "Of course, first enchanter. I will do as you ask."

"Go convince them you will risk all for their cause. I will be outside the repository with a contingent of templars. Let them see well the mischief one of their own has led my student into. Perform well, and your dedication will be rewarded."

Author's Notes: Sorry for the incredible wait, this has been in-progress for quite some time before college and then my other story stole my attention. Nevertheless, it's far from abandoned, just coming slower than the rest, as I'm mentally on a massive HP/ME kick.