The Wizard of Kirkwall

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or The Dresden file. They are rightful the property of Bioware and Jim Butcher.


Chapter 4: The Pirate Captain and The Dalish Mage

Hightown - Daytime

I once again read the note that Athenril's messenger boy, Pryce, had given me.

Dresden,

The word is that you're the person to see about tracking down hard to find objects.

Come by the Blooming Rose if you're interested in some work.

Captain Isabela.

I wonder why this Isabela had chosen the Blooming Rose as our meeting place. You would think that she would have picked a more discreet location to meet with a practitioner of the magical arts than Hightown's brothel.

Not that the lack of discretion bothered me though. If I'd cared about keeping a low profile I wouldn't have literally advertised the fact I was a wizard to the entire city barely a month after we were allowed into Kirkwall.

During those first few weeks in Kirkwall it hadn't take me long to realise that with the countless other refugees in the city the possibility of me finding ordinary work were slim to none. So rather than continuing to waste my time on the off chance that someone may hire me I had instead opted to recreate my detective business.

And so across the city's numerous public noticeboards I had put up flyers that read:

HARRY DRESDEN—WIZARD

Lost Items Found. Paranormal Investigations.

Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Prices.

No Love Potions, Endless Purses, Parties, or Other Entertainment.

Of course the Hawkes and Aveline had thought I'd gone mad since I didn't Athenril protection from the templars like Bethany did.

I hadn't been worried though. I was fairly confident that I could avoid being dragged off to the Circle by those zealots. Besides, even on the off chance they actually manage to capture me they wouldn't be able keep me imprisoned anyway since I can simple escape through the NeverNever via the Ways.

The following eleven months proved though that my confidence hadn't been misplaced as every attempt the templars had made to apprehend me resulted in failure thanks to my liberal use of escape and camouflage potions.

Unfortunately I wasn't having nearly the same amount of success with work. Due to the mistrust the general populous had of magic I received relatively few clients. So if wanted to make a living and help the Hawkes pay off the remained of their debt I couldn't afford to be overly picky about my clientele.

So here I was, currently sitting at a table in a common room of a brothel, waiting for this Isabela while ignoring the curious looks I was getting from some of the other patrons who recognised me.

"Harry Dresden?" asked a feminine voice.

The owner of the voice was an attractive woman whose appearance practically screamed pirate.

Her tanned complexion and piercings meant that she was a Rivaini. The woman's outfit consisted of a blue embroidered bandana that kept her shoulder length brown hair out of her face, a skimpy white chemise bodice that displayed a generous amount of cleavage, mid thigh length leather boots, a blue sash slung low across her hips and fingerless leather gloves. Encircling her neck was a thick ornate golden choker that matched the pair of dagger hilts jutting out from her shoulders.

"That's me," I confirmed, gesturing for her to take the vacant seat opposite me. "I take it you're Captain Isabela?"

"I am, although I must admit the title rings a bit hollow without my ship," she said as she sat down.

"What happen to it?"

"There was a storm. My ship ran aground on the reefs near the city. I managed to make to shore but most of my crew weren't so lucky, the poor sods. I knew some of those men for almost ten years," she said, her voice full of sadness and regret.

"I'm sorry," I muttered somewhat lamely.

She gave me a small smile to let me know that she appreciated the gesture.

"I'll miss them. Some more than other though."

She then swept a critical eye over me; taking in my appearance."I must say you're not what I had expected," she admitted. Gesturing at my wizard's staff, which was propped up against the table beside me, she said, "If not for your staff I'd have mistake you for a rogue."

I could see where she was coming from. I wore nothing like the usual attire for practitioners here. My outfit consisted of a plain steel grey shirt, navy blue pants and brown boots. Normally my black mantle leather duster would have raised eyebrows but here in Thedas, where people walked casually around in medieval armour, it was considered part of the norm.

There was also my physical appearance. With my long, lean muscular figure and vertical scar under my left eye, I had more in common with the image of rogue than that of a mage's. Though I'd like to believe I resembled some old-school Hollywood character with a duelling scar on his cheek.

I shrugged. "Not a fan of robes, too impractical. So what can I do for you? Your note heavily implied that you want me to find something."

"That's right," Isabela confirmed with a nod, "I lost a very important relic when I was shipwrecked and need you to locate it for me."

I frowned. Water, especially running water, grounds out most magic. My thaumaturgy or divination wouldn't be of much use. If I was to find this relic it would have to be done the old fashion way.

"You realise that it most likely at the bottom ocean?" I asked.

"I know," she said with a sigh. "But I have no choice but to hope that the relic somehow survived the wreck and wash up on shore somewhere. It's the only thing that can clear my debt to Castillon."

"Who's Castillon?"

Isabela scowled, her distaste for the man clearly evident. "He's a powerful merchant based in Antivan with ties to the Felicisima 's not the type of man you want to owe a debt to. That's why it is essential that you find the relic. "

"What's the deal with this relic? Why does this Castillon want it so bad?" I inquired.

"I don't really know," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "He has me chasing it down as payback for freeing his slaves."

"What's this about you freeing slaves?" I asked.

"I've done some jobs for Castillon in the past, smuggling lyrium, jewels and the occasional criminal acquaintance. So when he asked me to escort his cargo ship I didn't think much of at first. But partway through the job I got a bad feeling so I board his ship. Found out that the cargo he was transporting were slaves. There were nearly two hundred of them- elves, humans and even children." Her expression twisted into one of absolute disgust. "It was sickening. They'd paid Castillon to take them away from the Blight. He took their money and sold them into slavery. Even I could see that was wrong. So I freed all the slaves and helped them to escape..."

Her voice trailed off and she stared at me, eyebrows raised.

I realized then that I was breathing hard and that my breath was pluming into frost on the exhale. The mantle of power of the Winter Knight had noticed my desire to inflict harm to this asshole and was responding accordingly.

I closed my eyes and fought to bring the Winter inside of me under control. I'd done it often enough over the past year that it was almost routine. The usual deep-breathing techniques did nothing to stave off the howling, primitive need for violence that came with the Winter mantle. The only one method I'd found that worked was to assert my more rational mind.

So I went over my basic multiplication tables in my head, followed by half a dozen mathematical theorems, all the while reminding myself that tracking down and killing Castillon would be morally wrong, no matter how much the scumbag deserved it.

The Winter mantle snarled and spat its disappointment as it receded and flowed back out of my thoughts, leaving my breathing and body temperature returned to normal.

"Sorry about that," I apologised. "That happens when ever I get angry. It's...um...just a small harmless side of effect of my magic. Nothing to get worked up about."

"What's there to get worked up about? It's not as if you did anything particular dangerous, just weird," Isabela stated calmly.

"Normally people freak and start screaming apostate or abomination at the tiniest hint of magic."

She shrugged casually. "Mages don't worry me and I don't believe the templars when they say I should be worried. I've learned that people are perfectly capable of be abominations without being possessed and that coin can control a person just as easily as blood magic. Beside, I'm more likely to be shanked in a bar than eaten by an abomination. You can hear those coming a mile away."

She pantomimed an attacking abomination. "Grr. Argh! Oh, is that an abomination coming to eat us? We should get out of here."

"You forgot they also go rawr too," I commented straight face, earning an amused laugh from her in response.

"So this relic Castillon wants, what exactly is it?"

"Some ancient tome of lore written by historic figure whose name I can't pronounce," she replied.

"Could you give me a description of this tome so I'll be able to recognise it when I it?" I asked.

Isabela nodded and proceeded to describe the tome in detail. Once she had finished I grabbed my staff and stood up from the table.

"Well, I'll see what I can do. I will report back to you when I make any progress. Where will I be able to find you?"

"Either here or at The Hanged Man." She gave me a sultry smile. "I have a room there; if you're looking for... company later feel free to pay me a visit. You could show me how good you are with that staff of yours."

I felt the Winter in me stirring again, taking notice of whatever had gotten to my sex drive, searchingfor an outlet. That wasn't a good thing. Winter thought sex was almost as much fun as violence, and that they went even better mixed together.

I bid Isabela a hasty farewell and made a speedy exit from the brothel before Winter and my libido could overcome my restraint. Under Winter's influence there was no telling how I would behave during such...activities. Best to avoid it, no matter how isolated it made me feel.

(~)

Low town – Daytime

"My, my. If isn't the infamous mage from beyond Thedas," Elegant said by way of greeting.

"Hello, Elegant," I replied, ignoring her use of that ridiculous title the people of Kirkwall had branded me with.

"Lady Elegant, if you don't mind," she corrected. "I'm a married woman now."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you. Now I take you're here to sell me some of those unique potions of yours?"

I nodded; taking off the satchel I was carrying and handed it to her, receiving a fat coin purse in exchange. "A dozen anti-venom, weight-loss and pick-me-up potions."

Selling potions were a quick and easy source of income if not a large one. The talismans that I sold which prevented possession brought in a tidy sum but unfortunately they took a fair amount of time to create.

"Any chance I could convince you to change mind about those love potions?" she asked.

"No." I responded flatly.

Elegant let out a disappointed sight. "Shame, the Blooming Rose would pay a fortune for them. Give the Hawke siblings my regards would you?"

I nodded, say good bye and head off towards the Hawke residences.

With their estate in High town gone, the Hawkes had been forced to stay with Gamlen in Low town. I can't image it was pleasant, five people and dog having to live in such cramped quarters.

It wasn't long before I was knocking on the front door of a small hovel that had been the Hawke's home for the past year.

Thankfully, it's Leandra who answers the door and not her deadbeat of a brother.

"Harry," she said, smiling. "Here to see Marian or Bethany? I'm afraid Carver has dragged them off with him somewhere and they neglected to tell me where they going."

"That's alright. Just came by to drop off this," handing her the coin purse I had received earlier.

"Oh, thank you," Leandra said gratefully. "This should cover the money Carver spent at the Blooming Rose last night. You'd think common sense would tell him that is a bad idea to continually wasting money like that when we're still fifty sovereigns in debt. I blame Gamlen, he's been a bad influence on him."

"Hey!" protested a muffled voice from inside; its owner said bad influence.

"I could have word with him if you'd like," I offered.

"No, I'll handle it. You do too much for us as it is." She began tick off points with her figures. "You always lending a hand with the work my children have to do for Athenril. Every week you give us a portion of your earnings. You provide us with potions and magical protections. Not to mention all the magic lessons you give Bethany whenever you have spare moment."

Not long after we'd arrived in Kirkwall I'd taken Bethany on as my apprentice. Ever since father's death she had felt isolated due to magical gift, all the while constantly blaming herself for being the cause that prevented her family from living an ordinary life.

With me having revealed myself as a wizard in order to save Carver's life, it hadn't taken long for Bethany to approach me for guidance. See how much she was suffering it hadn't much for me to agreed to be her mentor.

As I tutored her in magic over the following months I helped her overcome a lifetime of Chantry propaganda, disabusing her of the notion that she was a sleeping monster waiting to be unleash on the world, and instilling in her my own beliefs and views on magic and how it should be used.

"Alright, but if you have trouble getting Carver to listen to reason you let me know," I instructed. "I'll be heading off then. I need to check up on my new charge."

(~)

It didn't take me long to reach the segregated quarter of Low town known as the Alienage, a collection of cramped slums which served as the homes of Kirkwall's elves.

The place was a haphazard pile of tenements and dirty shops; the only thing of note in the whole quarter was the central square, where a well-tended oak tree grew, its vibrantly green leaves forming a canopy that nearly covered the entire square. At the painted base of the tree lay numerous offering.

As I made my way through the alienage I exchanged polite greetings with many of its residents. As their neighbour I was well know to all of them.

I'd chosen to stay here because I figured they'd be less likely to turn me in to the templars compared to the human inhabitants of Low town. They had been wary of a human living in their midst at first but after nearly a year of being among them and having help them multiple times when the city guards had failed or refused to do so, they had come to view me as a member of their community.

Reaching my intended destination, I rapped on it dilapidated front door. It opened to reveal a young female elf. She possessed a small thin frame, ear length brown hair and large hazel eyes. Her face sported tattoos that marked her as one of the Dalish.

Not long ago I had traveled to the Dalish camp at Sundermount to deliver Flemeth's amulet to their Keeper as promised. The Keeper, Marethari, had me and her apprentice, Merrill,hike up to the summit of Sundermount, where we were to place the amulet on an altar. Once there Merrill performed a Dalish funeral rite with the amulet.

No doubt Flemeth had intended this rite to restore the essence of her that was hidden within it to physical form. Too bad Flemeth never said anything about not harming the entity residing in the amulet. Shame, if she had it might have stopped a certain meddling do-gooder wizard from destroying it.

One soulfire enhanced fire spell –fire burns even in the spirit world -and little backup Flemeth was dealt with. I was rather surprised that neither Merrill nor Marethari asked about me why the amulet was scorched and slightly melted. Perhaps they didn't notice.

With my end of the bargain fulfilled I returned to Kirkwall with Merrill in tow, Marethari having asked me to escort her to the city.

While she had only asked me to accompany the young elf to Kirkwall, the thing was I happen to suffered from a streak of chivalry that was a mile wide and twice as deep.

There was no way I was letting a naive and socially ignorant young woman fend for herself, not in a city where the majority of the population were prejudice against elves and mages –Merrill being lucky enough to be both. She wouldn't survive a week.

And so I had appointed myself her unofficial guardian.

"I'd didn't think you'd come," Merrill stated, her dialect sounding eerily similar to that of a Welsh.

"I promised that I would, didn't I?"I reminded her."Can I come in?"

An invitation is a serious thing in the supernatural world. Surrounding any home is a threshold, a field of protective energy that keeps out unwanted magical forces. As a result it's harder for you to work magic in a home you haven't been invited into. You cross a threshold without an invitation from one of the rightful residents, and you leave a big chunk of your power at the door.

Not that I needed have bothered. With Merrill having only moved in recently there wouldn't be much of a threshold. Still, it was only polite.

"Oh! Yes, please come in," Merrill said, ushering me inside.

The place was a mirror image of my own apartment, a simple three room layout that was made almost entirely of wood. There was the main room, a bedroom and a little bathroom that was adjacent to it.

Filling the main room were pieces of furniture and book cases, with a kitchenette tucked away in one corner. On the walls hung paintings of various forest landscapes.

"I'll find something relatively clean for you to sit on," Merrill said, going over to a nearby table and giving one of its chairs a quick clean.

As I sat down in it Merrill asked, "Can I get you something to eat or drink? I have...water."

I shook my head. "I appreciate the offer but I'm going to pass. I don't trust the water from this part of the city."

"I'd boil it first," she said defensively. "A few times, actually. Sometimes, it won't stop twitching."

"And with that cheery revelation I've decided that I rather die of thirst than drink the Alienage's water."

"I'm sorry. My first guest and I am already a terrible host," Merrill fretted, taking the seat opposite me. "I wanted to thank you for bring me here but I'm making a mess of it.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," I advised. "Normally when I pay someone a visit all they offer me is to show me the door, so this is actually a step up from my usual treatment. Besides, there no need to thank me. We're friends, remember?"

"I haven't exactly had many friends. Not even among my own clan," she admitted. "This is...tricky."

"I find that hard to believe. How could someone as friendly as you could be so unpopular?" I asked.

"Being first to the keeper, I was always... a bit secluded. I study magic and history while the others were learning the Vir Tanadhla." She tried to smile. "It's good that I left. I'd made a terrible keeper. I was never that good with people."

"You're wrong. So what if you weren't good with people. Someone as caring, earnest and determined as you would've made a great Keeper."

Merrill's cheeks turned pink. "You're so kind. Not at all like how I expected a shemlen to be."

"The sentries at your camp called me that," I said, recalling the conversation I had with the two elves. "What does it mean?"

"It means quick child. It is term created by the ancient elves to describe the humans and denote their shorter lives," she explained.

"Well, talk about irony," I remarked, amused. "Calling me that when you Dalish are the ones with the much shorter lifespan compared to mine."

"But the number of years an elf and a human lived for are relatively the same," she said, confused.

"True enough for normal humans. But I also happen to be a wizard. Thanks to our magic, we wizards get to hang around much longer," I said.

"You know magic that can extend a person's life?" she asked eagerly, a hopeful look in her eyes. No doubt she was thinking about the possibility of restoring her race's immortality.

"In a sense," I replied. "Here in Thedas, a mage such as yourself uses magic by tapping into the power of what you call the Fade to essentially question reality, rendering it mutable and able to be reshaped. However, my magic differs from yours. Rather than the Fade, I instead tap into the fundamental energies of creation and life itself."

"Your magic doesn't originate from the Fade!?" Merrill exclaimed, a look of absolute shock on her face.

I nodded. "This gives me certain advantages you mages lack. For one, I don't have to worry about drawing the attention of spiritual beings whenever I use magic. Instead, the use of my magic, the essence of life itself, increases my longevity drastically. So long as nobody sticks a sword in me or I catch some fatal disease, I'll live for centuries."

"Is it possible for me to learn this magic of your?" she asked excitedly.

"It is, but it won't be easy."

It had taken a lot research and countless experiments but in the end Bethany had been able to use my branch of magic.

"I'm currently teaching it to my apprentice, Bethany, whenever I have a spare moment. You're more than welcome to join her," I offered.

"Thank you, Dresden. If there's ever a way for me to repay you..."

Hmm, now seems as good a time as any to inform her of a certain plan of mine.

"Well, there's a plan Bethany and I are working on that we could use your help with. It's quite risky and a bit of a long shot but if it works Thedas will be forced to change how they treat mages, one way or another."

(~)

Codex Entry: Potions

There's two way to make potions. Crafting and Brewing.

Crafting is the method used here in Thedas and is fairly straightforward. So long as you have the necessary herbs, crafting a potion is simply a matter of following the recipe's instructions.

While crafting is easier than brewing, the verity of potions made this way is mostly limited to either restoratives or draughts that increases certain attributes in a person, such as durability or resistance to a specific elemental attack.

Brewing on the other hand is far more complex than crafting and is the method used in the homeland of my teacher, Dresden.

A brewed potion consists of eight parts. A base liquid to provide a medium for mixing. Five ingredients symbolically linked to each of the five senses. Another ingredient similarly linked to the mind, with the final ingredient being linked to that of the spirit.

The actual physical ingredients themselves aren't all that important -it's the meaning that they carry, the significance that they have for the person making the potion. As a result the ingredients are different for each and every potion, and for each person who makes them.

Once all the ingredients are mixed together, enough magical energy has to be force through them to activate them.

Unlike with crafting, there doesn't appear to be a limit to the kinds of potions you can create with brewing. Not even if that potion does something that should be impossible, such as briefly transforming the consumer into the wind.

-From the notes of Bethany Hawke.


Author notes:

This chapter gave me some serious dramas. I wasn't happy with how it turned out despite having changed and rewrote it seven times. So I decide to cut my losses and just post it since I haven't updated in nearly a year. Hopefully I'll have better luck with the next chapter.

Also thanks to those who pointed out that it's Athenril and not Amerthel. I've now change it to the correct name.