By mid-spring, the air was warm enough outside that not even Amalia required sleeves, and so she had forgone them, in favor of a sage-green tunic and simple brown trousers. At present, she was also barefoot, her pant-legs rolled up to the knee. In one hand, she held a broad paintbrush, the ends of it coated liberally in a rather cheerful shade of blue. Not her choice, naturally, but then this wasn’t for her.
It had taken her some time to decide how she wanted to use the money she was now making selling her goods out of Rilien’s storefront. So long, in fact, that she had amassed more of it than she really knew what to do with. It was, as it turned out, enough for a large-scale infrastructure project in the Alienage. So after some consideration, a consultation with the Hahren, and a recommendation from Lucien, she had hired several carpenters and laborers for what turned out to be a relatively simple, but important job: fix the roofs of the Alienage houses, and install new, strong front doors onto the frames that, often as not, were protected by rotting plywood or a makeshift curtain. Doors meant locks, and Rilien had recommended the locksmith who worked with the carpenters.
The roofs had been done a week ago, but the doors had taken more time, as each first needed a stable frame, which some of the houses didn’t have. Now they had been built though, and admittedly, the current project of painting them wasn’t entirely necessary, but it was something she’d decided to do anyway. The reason was obvious, when one considered that most of the painters involved were the Alienage’s children. It was a small thing, almost an insignificant thing, but by spreading things out like this and allowing them to choose their own brushes and colors and designs, they were given some form of agency in their lives, the ability to choose something about their homes, about the spaces they lived in. Even small choices had importance; this she had learned.
Of course, there were no children in some of the homes, and those doors, she was painting herself, with help from a few volunteers. She was no portrait artist, but she knew something of color and pattern. It was actually nice, to do something different from her usual endeavors.
Covering the last blank spot on the door she crouched beside, Amalia stood, leaving it to dry and heading for the next one. “Kadan, have you seen the dark green anywhere?”
Ithilian was working on the next door over, crouched next to a small elven boy, the pair of them working with concentration on filling in the laid out pattern with yellow and blue without passing over the white lines. It was difficult to tell which one of them was struggling more. The older elf was dressed much like Amalia, focusing intently on the door in front of him, until Amalia spoke, at which point he carefully removed the brush in his left hand from the wall, and turned to look up at her.
"Emerion had it, last I saw," he said, gesturing to a door three houses over, where his friend was busy instructing a fellow elf on a specific pattern, and likely going on about what it symbolized, and its place in the elven pantheon. "Don't think he needs it anymore... lethallan. Templars."
His attention had been drawn by the sight of armor coming down the steps of the Alienage, far more than was usual. Instead of the typical pair, he spotted eight of them in total, all in full armor, only two not wearing helmets. He recognized them as the pair most common to the Alienage, Knight-Lieutenant Grath and Knight-Corporal Swann. They moved with a purpose, clearly having a destination in mind rather than aimlessly walking about on a precautionary patrol.
Ithilian's first thought was to look to Emerion, who also had noticed the arrival of the Templars, but they did not appear to be heading towards him, but instead to Ithilian and Amalia. Indeed, he soon saw Swann point the pair of them out to the rest, and they made their way across the Alienage, passing under the branches of the vhenadahl on their way.
Gently pushing the boy a half step behind him, Ithilian moved forward a bit to greet the Templars, who drew no weapons, but certainly came armed, with swords at their hips and shields across their backs. He spied Emerion quickly coming closer from his left, as well as many other elves who were curious what this was about.
"Something we can do for you, Templars?" Ithilian asked, cautiously. The Knight-Lieutenant stepped forward to answer.
"On the Knight-Commander's orders, these men are to escort you to the Templar Headquarters in the Gallows, immediately." His gaze was stern as ever, but the words were not delivered aggressively or maliciously. Nevertheless, Emerion seemed to take issue with them, coming to stand beside his friend.
"Are they being charged with something?"
"My orders are to have my men take the two called Ithilian and Amalia to the Gallows," Grath answered. "I was given no more information."
Calmly, Amalia set her paintbrush down, her hand pausing briefly to rest on the head of the child near her side, but then she walked to the front of the group to stand beside Ithilian. This many Templars was always enough to induce caution, but she saw no good reason to resist them here. Especially not with all these people about. It was also better if Emerion didn’t have a chance to argue with them, as he might well do given the right provocation.
“Very well.” She took a few more paces, to where she’d leaned her boots up against the side of her house, and stepped into them, tapping their toes a few times against the ground for fit and returning to where she’d been. It was a lot of people for a simple escort, and that was obvious, enough so that she chose not to comment on it, at least for the moment.
Ithilian wasn't pleased with being taken anywhere by armed men, and he could tell that Emerion thought even less of it, but if they really didn't have any more information, there was no point trying to pry more of it out. He was tempted to ask if they needed to bring arms and armor with them, but Grath likely didn't know that, either. It would put the immediately part of his orders at risk, at any rate.
"Let's get this over with, then." There wasn't anything inherently hostile about this, but none of it was friendly, either. Stepping forward with Amalia, the Templars formed up around them, Grath and Swann stepping to the outside. The redheaded woman looked uncomfortable. Ithilian assumed she wasn't fond of these orders, either.
"Knight-Corporal Swann and I will be conducting a routine patrol of the area. These men will take you to the Gallows." With that, they were obviously expected to move out, as the Templars began to walk, forcing Ithilian and Amalia to walk with them. It looked very much like an arrest, Ithilian was aware, and many of the onlookers no doubt thought the same. Emerion watched them leave with carefully surveying eyes, arms crossed over his chest. It wasn't long before the last elf had passed from Ithilian's sight, and they were into Lowtown proper.
Though all in the party seemed experienced in walking in silence, it was nevertheless a terse and uncomfortable experience. They walked down to the Docks, and took a ferry waiting for them across the channel to the Gallows, where they were escorted away from both the dungeons and the Circle quarters, and over to the Templar Headquarters on the west side of the fortress. Unarmed, Ithilian was beginning to feel very much out of place. He did not even have Parshaara on him.
Once inside, they were guided up a set of stairs to their left, exiting the courtyard and heading towards the offices of the highest ranking members of the Order in Kirkwall. There they were directed to take a seat upon a wooden bench, and told to wait, with the knowledge that the Knight-Commander would summon them shortly. Shortly turned out to be nearly half an hour, with little to fill it other than the noise of the creaking bench, the crackling of torches on the walls, and the soft clinking of Templar armor coming from the guards stationed at the doors.
Finally, a blonde haired Tranquil woman emerged from one of the offices, and requested that they enter. Meredith sat behind her desk, scribbling away on a document before her, and Ithilian and Amalia were guided into a pair of chairs on the other side of the desk. The Tranquil departed, and two Templar guards took up positions on either side of the door, closing it behind them. Meredith finished writing a sentence before speaking, allowing the first few seconds of the meeting to pass in silence.
"Thank you for coming," she began, somewhat tersely. "It is well known to me by this point that the two of you are something of leaders in your community. It should be in our mutual interest, then, to work together on matters that threaten the city. The Elven Alienage is, after all, part of this city." Setting her quill back in the inkpot, she folded her hands together neatly on the desk.
"Tell me, what is your opinion on the Templar Order? If you have any, that is."
Amalia blinked. This question was very clearly beside the point. Or at least, she hoped it was; because if they had been brought here to take a poll of opinion, she wasn’t going to be happy about it. “Your power is substantial, but you wield it like a cudgel even where a needle is called for. You also accomplish most things through fear and intimidation, which can be effective, but usually does not lead to long-term success, as too much psychological pressure on those you mean to control will eventually have the opposite effect. So my opinion is that the Templar order, while generally adequate to its task, is a crude and shortsighted organization that will eventually suffer for its weaknesses. Sooner, the thinner you spread yourselves.”
She shrugged. Her assessment was far from complimentary, but it would appear that she hadn’t meant anything outright hostile by it. Her words were those of neutral prediction rather than threat. Honestly, as far as Amalia was concerned, Templars were neither here nor there, until they started putting their noses where they didn’t belong, and then they became people that she watched, the way a mongoose watches a cobra.
Ithilian's eyes bounced back and forth between Amalia and Meredith for a moment, expecting something unpleasant to follow, and for a moment Meredith seemed to be considering it, but ultimately kept her features unreadable. "Quite possibly a fair assessment. And you?" She looked to Ithilian. His mouth hung slightly open for a moment.
"Uh... well, I believe lethallan has said it better than I could. We're in agreement."
"Fair enough," Meredith said, leaning back slightly. "A few of my Templars have expressed similar ideas, albeit in more honeyed words. I appreciate the directness. And I've decided that today is an opportunity to try the needle as opposed to the cudgel, as you say. Perhaps you can convince me of its effectiveness." Pushing her chair back, she stood, walking several steps to the side and crossing her arms.
"The Alienage has, for the past few years, been a location shut off to the Templars, due to the unfortunate clash between elves attempting to join the Qun and my forces. It is no Darktown, of course, but nevertheless offers an attractive hiding place for apostates. I am certain at least one blood mage makes a home there, perhaps more." Turning about, she made her way to the other side of the table, near where Amalia sat. "Contrary to what many may believe, I have no wish to ransack civilian homes in my search for them. That is where I hope the two of you can come in."
Ithilian glanced back to the two guards behind them, already disliking the idea of being hired by Meredith for anything. "Produce for me an apostate, maleficarum or otherwise, residing in the Alienage, however you feel is best, and I will be satisfied. Any protection you have offered them until this point will be forgiven, so long as I have your aid moving forward. Your position of leadership among the elves cannot be overlooked, and as leaders, we must cooperate to maintain order. The containment of apostates and the culling of blood mages benefits all of us."
Amalia’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her posture did not relax in the slightest. Meredith was essentially demanding tribute in exchange for non-interference, like a human lord grown contemptuous of a vassal. Except that the tribute was, essentially, to be a life. Either one in prison or one cut short. Amalia did not imagine that, if she and Ithilian were to comply, the community they worked to protect would trust them any longer. The Alienage was wary of Templars to begin with, and as Arianni had demonstrated all those years ago, they would do everything possible not to give up their magically-inclined kin.
She wasn’t even particularly tempted to make them, but there seemed to be a very clear threat attached to this. The cudgel, so to speak. She didn’t answer this time, instead sliding her eyes to Ithilian.
Ithilian wanted to speak no more than Amalia did, but he supposed it was his place to, here. He knew only of one apostate residing in the Alienage, and Emerion almost certainly had knowledge of blood magic, being trained as a Keeper. The Dalish did not forbid it as strictly as the humans chose to. It was an impossible situation, to be sure. He was not about to hand over a friend for execution. Not only did he hope to protect Emerion, it would destroy the faith the people had placed in him, and Amalia as well, if she were to help. But if they did not comply, they risked Templars forcing themselves in with more invasive searches, at the very least.
"What do you expect us to tell them?"[/b] he asked, containing whatever outrage he might have felt. [color=darkgreen]"That they must give up family members, turn on each other and destroy their bonds in the name of... what? Paranoia? The Alienage has not been troubled by mages thus far. It will remain so."
"You are simply to tell them to obey the law. While I have the power, Kirkwall will remain a city of law. It is against that law to remain outside of the Circle as a mage. Anyone who does so endangers their entire community, as well as themselves. Help them understand why this is for their own protection."
His immediate thought was that the danger was from the Templars alone, and if the Templars simply did not exist, there would be no danger to the community, but this he kept to himself. He knew Meredith would not hear it, that it would only anger her and push her ever closer to aggressive action. That they'd been granted this meeting at all was a sort of gift; they had some warning that Meredith would be coming down hard on them, and soon. How they could possibly prepare, though, he did not know.
Nodding, Ithilian slid his chair back, and stood. "Very well. You've made yourself clear. If there is nothing else, we should be going." A wave of Meredith's hand signaled a door guard to open their way out.
"Good. I will allow you some time, but I do expect results. Something I have heard the two of you are fully capable of providing."
It had taken her some time to decide how she wanted to use the money she was now making selling her goods out of Rilien’s storefront. So long, in fact, that she had amassed more of it than she really knew what to do with. It was, as it turned out, enough for a large-scale infrastructure project in the Alienage. So after some consideration, a consultation with the Hahren, and a recommendation from Lucien, she had hired several carpenters and laborers for what turned out to be a relatively simple, but important job: fix the roofs of the Alienage houses, and install new, strong front doors onto the frames that, often as not, were protected by rotting plywood or a makeshift curtain. Doors meant locks, and Rilien had recommended the locksmith who worked with the carpenters.
The roofs had been done a week ago, but the doors had taken more time, as each first needed a stable frame, which some of the houses didn’t have. Now they had been built though, and admittedly, the current project of painting them wasn’t entirely necessary, but it was something she’d decided to do anyway. The reason was obvious, when one considered that most of the painters involved were the Alienage’s children. It was a small thing, almost an insignificant thing, but by spreading things out like this and allowing them to choose their own brushes and colors and designs, they were given some form of agency in their lives, the ability to choose something about their homes, about the spaces they lived in. Even small choices had importance; this she had learned.
Of course, there were no children in some of the homes, and those doors, she was painting herself, with help from a few volunteers. She was no portrait artist, but she knew something of color and pattern. It was actually nice, to do something different from her usual endeavors.
Covering the last blank spot on the door she crouched beside, Amalia stood, leaving it to dry and heading for the next one. “Kadan, have you seen the dark green anywhere?”
Ithilian was working on the next door over, crouched next to a small elven boy, the pair of them working with concentration on filling in the laid out pattern with yellow and blue without passing over the white lines. It was difficult to tell which one of them was struggling more. The older elf was dressed much like Amalia, focusing intently on the door in front of him, until Amalia spoke, at which point he carefully removed the brush in his left hand from the wall, and turned to look up at her.
"Emerion had it, last I saw," he said, gesturing to a door three houses over, where his friend was busy instructing a fellow elf on a specific pattern, and likely going on about what it symbolized, and its place in the elven pantheon. "Don't think he needs it anymore... lethallan. Templars."
His attention had been drawn by the sight of armor coming down the steps of the Alienage, far more than was usual. Instead of the typical pair, he spotted eight of them in total, all in full armor, only two not wearing helmets. He recognized them as the pair most common to the Alienage, Knight-Lieutenant Grath and Knight-Corporal Swann. They moved with a purpose, clearly having a destination in mind rather than aimlessly walking about on a precautionary patrol.
Ithilian's first thought was to look to Emerion, who also had noticed the arrival of the Templars, but they did not appear to be heading towards him, but instead to Ithilian and Amalia. Indeed, he soon saw Swann point the pair of them out to the rest, and they made their way across the Alienage, passing under the branches of the vhenadahl on their way.
Gently pushing the boy a half step behind him, Ithilian moved forward a bit to greet the Templars, who drew no weapons, but certainly came armed, with swords at their hips and shields across their backs. He spied Emerion quickly coming closer from his left, as well as many other elves who were curious what this was about.
"Something we can do for you, Templars?" Ithilian asked, cautiously. The Knight-Lieutenant stepped forward to answer.
"On the Knight-Commander's orders, these men are to escort you to the Templar Headquarters in the Gallows, immediately." His gaze was stern as ever, but the words were not delivered aggressively or maliciously. Nevertheless, Emerion seemed to take issue with them, coming to stand beside his friend.
"Are they being charged with something?"
"My orders are to have my men take the two called Ithilian and Amalia to the Gallows," Grath answered. "I was given no more information."
Calmly, Amalia set her paintbrush down, her hand pausing briefly to rest on the head of the child near her side, but then she walked to the front of the group to stand beside Ithilian. This many Templars was always enough to induce caution, but she saw no good reason to resist them here. Especially not with all these people about. It was also better if Emerion didn’t have a chance to argue with them, as he might well do given the right provocation.
“Very well.” She took a few more paces, to where she’d leaned her boots up against the side of her house, and stepped into them, tapping their toes a few times against the ground for fit and returning to where she’d been. It was a lot of people for a simple escort, and that was obvious, enough so that she chose not to comment on it, at least for the moment.
Ithilian wasn't pleased with being taken anywhere by armed men, and he could tell that Emerion thought even less of it, but if they really didn't have any more information, there was no point trying to pry more of it out. He was tempted to ask if they needed to bring arms and armor with them, but Grath likely didn't know that, either. It would put the immediately part of his orders at risk, at any rate.
"Let's get this over with, then." There wasn't anything inherently hostile about this, but none of it was friendly, either. Stepping forward with Amalia, the Templars formed up around them, Grath and Swann stepping to the outside. The redheaded woman looked uncomfortable. Ithilian assumed she wasn't fond of these orders, either.
"Knight-Corporal Swann and I will be conducting a routine patrol of the area. These men will take you to the Gallows." With that, they were obviously expected to move out, as the Templars began to walk, forcing Ithilian and Amalia to walk with them. It looked very much like an arrest, Ithilian was aware, and many of the onlookers no doubt thought the same. Emerion watched them leave with carefully surveying eyes, arms crossed over his chest. It wasn't long before the last elf had passed from Ithilian's sight, and they were into Lowtown proper.
Though all in the party seemed experienced in walking in silence, it was nevertheless a terse and uncomfortable experience. They walked down to the Docks, and took a ferry waiting for them across the channel to the Gallows, where they were escorted away from both the dungeons and the Circle quarters, and over to the Templar Headquarters on the west side of the fortress. Unarmed, Ithilian was beginning to feel very much out of place. He did not even have Parshaara on him.
Once inside, they were guided up a set of stairs to their left, exiting the courtyard and heading towards the offices of the highest ranking members of the Order in Kirkwall. There they were directed to take a seat upon a wooden bench, and told to wait, with the knowledge that the Knight-Commander would summon them shortly. Shortly turned out to be nearly half an hour, with little to fill it other than the noise of the creaking bench, the crackling of torches on the walls, and the soft clinking of Templar armor coming from the guards stationed at the doors.
Finally, a blonde haired Tranquil woman emerged from one of the offices, and requested that they enter. Meredith sat behind her desk, scribbling away on a document before her, and Ithilian and Amalia were guided into a pair of chairs on the other side of the desk. The Tranquil departed, and two Templar guards took up positions on either side of the door, closing it behind them. Meredith finished writing a sentence before speaking, allowing the first few seconds of the meeting to pass in silence.
"Thank you for coming," she began, somewhat tersely. "It is well known to me by this point that the two of you are something of leaders in your community. It should be in our mutual interest, then, to work together on matters that threaten the city. The Elven Alienage is, after all, part of this city." Setting her quill back in the inkpot, she folded her hands together neatly on the desk.
"Tell me, what is your opinion on the Templar Order? If you have any, that is."
Amalia blinked. This question was very clearly beside the point. Or at least, she hoped it was; because if they had been brought here to take a poll of opinion, she wasn’t going to be happy about it. “Your power is substantial, but you wield it like a cudgel even where a needle is called for. You also accomplish most things through fear and intimidation, which can be effective, but usually does not lead to long-term success, as too much psychological pressure on those you mean to control will eventually have the opposite effect. So my opinion is that the Templar order, while generally adequate to its task, is a crude and shortsighted organization that will eventually suffer for its weaknesses. Sooner, the thinner you spread yourselves.”
She shrugged. Her assessment was far from complimentary, but it would appear that she hadn’t meant anything outright hostile by it. Her words were those of neutral prediction rather than threat. Honestly, as far as Amalia was concerned, Templars were neither here nor there, until they started putting their noses where they didn’t belong, and then they became people that she watched, the way a mongoose watches a cobra.
Ithilian's eyes bounced back and forth between Amalia and Meredith for a moment, expecting something unpleasant to follow, and for a moment Meredith seemed to be considering it, but ultimately kept her features unreadable. "Quite possibly a fair assessment. And you?" She looked to Ithilian. His mouth hung slightly open for a moment.
"Uh... well, I believe lethallan has said it better than I could. We're in agreement."
"Fair enough," Meredith said, leaning back slightly. "A few of my Templars have expressed similar ideas, albeit in more honeyed words. I appreciate the directness. And I've decided that today is an opportunity to try the needle as opposed to the cudgel, as you say. Perhaps you can convince me of its effectiveness." Pushing her chair back, she stood, walking several steps to the side and crossing her arms.
"The Alienage has, for the past few years, been a location shut off to the Templars, due to the unfortunate clash between elves attempting to join the Qun and my forces. It is no Darktown, of course, but nevertheless offers an attractive hiding place for apostates. I am certain at least one blood mage makes a home there, perhaps more." Turning about, she made her way to the other side of the table, near where Amalia sat. "Contrary to what many may believe, I have no wish to ransack civilian homes in my search for them. That is where I hope the two of you can come in."
Ithilian glanced back to the two guards behind them, already disliking the idea of being hired by Meredith for anything. "Produce for me an apostate, maleficarum or otherwise, residing in the Alienage, however you feel is best, and I will be satisfied. Any protection you have offered them until this point will be forgiven, so long as I have your aid moving forward. Your position of leadership among the elves cannot be overlooked, and as leaders, we must cooperate to maintain order. The containment of apostates and the culling of blood mages benefits all of us."
Amalia’s eyes narrowed slightly, and her posture did not relax in the slightest. Meredith was essentially demanding tribute in exchange for non-interference, like a human lord grown contemptuous of a vassal. Except that the tribute was, essentially, to be a life. Either one in prison or one cut short. Amalia did not imagine that, if she and Ithilian were to comply, the community they worked to protect would trust them any longer. The Alienage was wary of Templars to begin with, and as Arianni had demonstrated all those years ago, they would do everything possible not to give up their magically-inclined kin.
She wasn’t even particularly tempted to make them, but there seemed to be a very clear threat attached to this. The cudgel, so to speak. She didn’t answer this time, instead sliding her eyes to Ithilian.
Ithilian wanted to speak no more than Amalia did, but he supposed it was his place to, here. He knew only of one apostate residing in the Alienage, and Emerion almost certainly had knowledge of blood magic, being trained as a Keeper. The Dalish did not forbid it as strictly as the humans chose to. It was an impossible situation, to be sure. He was not about to hand over a friend for execution. Not only did he hope to protect Emerion, it would destroy the faith the people had placed in him, and Amalia as well, if she were to help. But if they did not comply, they risked Templars forcing themselves in with more invasive searches, at the very least.
"What do you expect us to tell them?"[/b] he asked, containing whatever outrage he might have felt. [color=darkgreen]"That they must give up family members, turn on each other and destroy their bonds in the name of... what? Paranoia? The Alienage has not been troubled by mages thus far. It will remain so."
"You are simply to tell them to obey the law. While I have the power, Kirkwall will remain a city of law. It is against that law to remain outside of the Circle as a mage. Anyone who does so endangers their entire community, as well as themselves. Help them understand why this is for their own protection."
His immediate thought was that the danger was from the Templars alone, and if the Templars simply did not exist, there would be no danger to the community, but this he kept to himself. He knew Meredith would not hear it, that it would only anger her and push her ever closer to aggressive action. That they'd been granted this meeting at all was a sort of gift; they had some warning that Meredith would be coming down hard on them, and soon. How they could possibly prepare, though, he did not know.
Nodding, Ithilian slid his chair back, and stood. "Very well. You've made yourself clear. If there is nothing else, we should be going." A wave of Meredith's hand signaled a door guard to open their way out.
"Good. I will allow you some time, but I do expect results. Something I have heard the two of you are fully capable of providing."