They did not run to the docks, but the group could not have walked any faster if they tried. Nostariel had elected to come along as a precaution to any injury that might occur, and while Lia had wanted to come as well, Ithilian persuaded her to return to the Lions, and tell Lucien what had happened. He did not expect there would be any part for the Lions to play in this, but he thought it best they know what was occurring anyway.
Neither Emerion nor Grath was spotted on their way to the ferry. A quick interrogation of the boatman that arrived to take them across revealed nothing useful, but that didn't necessarily mean anything; there were quite a few boats that traveled to and from the Gallows, and Emerion could have been on any of them. Setting off from the docks, Ithilian adjusted the armor and weapons he had hastily thrown on in his departure. Any scenario in which he needed to use them would be dire; he did not relish the thought of stopping his friend for Meredith's sake. And the Alienage, he had to remind himself.
Boots hit the ground at the base of the Gallows, the three quickly making their way inside. Their eyes covered different directions as they moved, unsure if Emerion would have made his way to the Gallows, or to the Templar headquarters, but in the end, it was Ithilian who spotted one of their quarries. He pointed to the reinforced front doors of the Templar compound, at the heavily armored warrior passing through. "Knight-Lieutenant's armor. But he's alone."
He supposed it could have been another; there were quite a few Knight-Lieutenants in Kirkwall, after all. Something about the way one of the door guards watched him pass through, though...
Whatever Amalia had been expecting to encounter once they made it this far, what she actually found was not it. Sweeping her eyes over the surroundings, she followed the direction of Ithilianâs gesture, pursing her lips slightly and nodding. There was a decent chance that was Grath. But⊠she nudged her kadanâs elbow with her own, and nodded in a slightly different direction, the gesture obvious enough that Nostariel would be able to follow it also.
Because, puzzlingly enough, Emerion appeared to be seated behind a merchant stall, one of several set up in front of the Templar headquarters. As far as she could tell, his body language was relaxedâhis eyes were even closed. Amalia wasnât really sure what to make of that.
"By the..." Ithilian trailed off when he followed Amalia's nod to where Emerion sat, as casually as though he were taking a mid-afternoon nap, in a merchant stall that he acted like he owned. Trying not to give away the seriousness of the situation to anyone that was watching, Ithilian led the way swiftly over to the stall, stopping on the front side of the countertop. It was a large, open, tent-like setup, the wares consisting mostly of herbs and potions.
"Emerion," Ithilian hissed, to get his attention. "Are you insane? What have you done?" In reply, his friend actually smiled, a grin that Ithilian was quite unfamiliar with.
"Well, this is turning out to be quite tragic. For him, that is. Looks like I wasn't even needed." He opened his eyes and looked up them, his irises a strange color of electric blue. Ithilian recoiled from the sight of him, his features shifting quickly from anger to alarm.
"What is this? What are you talking about?"
"He was worried, so worried. Thought he needed to help, but didn't know how. One slip was all it took. He and I are old friends, but now he's given me the room. I knew a way to help you, and much more." The grin on Emerion's face grew, though the look it had did not belong to Emerion at all.
A soft hiss of exhalation escaped Nostariel at the words. She could understand Ithilian not quite grasping what was happening hereâshe didnât want to believe it either, and Emerion was not her childhood friend. But taking it in, the evidence was all there. The relaxed posture, the indicative eye color, the arrogance in his facial expression and his tone, to say nothing of the words themselves. âPride demon.â The words were no louder than a breathy whisperâone did not say such things aloud in the company of Templars to be sure.
She swallowed thickly, and turned wide eyes to Ithilian. This explained quite a lot, but⊠how were they going to handle this? Nostariel knew of only one possession that had ended with the expulsion of the demon, and their chances of replicating Sparrowâs circumstances were, as she understood it, virtually nonexistent. The usual solution in such cases was to kill the host, before or after they became an abomination. But that⊠that was not a decision so easily made. Not when the host was kith or kin.
Pride demon. It didn't take Ithilian long to figure out the meaning behind the words. Possession. Emerion was lost, and the only reason the demon hadn't mutated his body into an abomination was because he was interested in remaining hidden. Not too hidden, obviously, given the incredibly rash actions he had led him to do. The murder of the Templar in the Alienage, the control of the other one... all of it must have been done by the demon. It left Ithilian unsure what to do. He supposed he should have driven a blade into him then and there, but he could not seem to forget the fact that he himself had once given in to Pride, and put his allies at risk. He had been pulled back from that brink by them. Couldn't the same happen for Emerion?
"One moment, please," the demon said through Emerion's mouth, closing his eyes again. "I've left my tool unattended. This won't take long." He had closed his eyes only for a brief moment when a deep boom sounded out, coming from the direction of the Templar headquarters. Even from this distance the reverberations of the blast could be felt, and after a total silence fell for a moment, the first screams pierced the air. The guards at the front gate could not help themselves, leaving their posts to look inside, and see what had occurred.
"A surprise for the officers of the Order," the demon said, eyes open again. He stood, clasping his hands casually together in front of him. "I believe we should go."
While Nostariel was perhaps more inclined to stop and help any potential injuried parties than she was to just walk away from what might have been a walking bomb spell or something worse, she acknowledged that there were plenty of able healers in a Circle, and her time was probably better put to use making sure Ithilian and Amalia werenât implicated in this.
âFollow me, then.â With a baleful glance at Emerionâor rather, the demon using Emerion as transportâshe led the way to the boats, talking one of the ferrymen into letting them across despite the rather obvious disturbance that had just occurred. A fortunate thing, too, because the Templars were quick to close ranks, and it wasnât long before they were out in force, presumably searching for whoever was responsible for this whole thing.
They wouldnât find him, at least not yet. Nostariel may have no personal need of boltholes, but that didnât mean she had none. The one she chose was in Darktown, as rarely did even Templars venture this far into the cityâs rotting underbelly. To their benefit, it looked as though it had remained undisturbed since the last time sheâd seen it, if the cobwebs were anything to go by. Brushing them away as she entered, she let the others file in, then shut the door, plunging the room into darkness for a few seconds before she produced a light by magic. The hideaway was sparsely-furnished, with a rickety table, a couple of rotting chairs, and little else, but at least the floor was made of actual wood, and it was a sight better than a sewer passage, in terms of both smell and contents.
"Dismal place," the demon commented dryly, allowing itself to be guided in by the others. Ithilian had been terrified of the creature feeling threatened at some point during their move here, with the way the Templars were moving around once the word of the attack had gotten out. It was unclear what exactly had happened; word spread quickly, but so too did false reports, and they had heard several on their way to Darktown. Frankly, Ithilian didn't care. Templars were dead, a creature wearing Emerion's face was responsible, and since he had heard no reports of Meredith's death, he had to assume she was alive, and plotting an aggressive move.
The hideout had a side room, which Ithilian was grateful for. He pointed to one of the chairs and glared at the demon. "Sit, and don't move." Not resisting, the demon made his way over and sank down, the chair creaking beneath him. Ithilian looked to Nostariel next. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere. Lethallan." He made his way into the dim side room, waiting for Amalia to close the door behind her before he spoke, his voice quiet and tense.
"I don't know what to do, lethallan."
Amalia shook her head. She really didnât know what to do either. âHissraâŠâ she paused, then corrected herself. âDemons donât let go, kadan. This isnât Feynrielâs dream. If we kill Emerion, he really dies, and the demon with him.â It was, in many ways, the logical thing to do. The demon was clearly in control of the situation, and sheâd never heard of someone just fighting off a possession from superior strength of will or anything like that. These things ended one of two ways: either the abomination was killed, or it killed a lot of other people, and then was killed.
âButâŠâ She could see how much this bothered him. She didnât even have to look to understand, thoughâEmerion was his clan, and Ithilian held clan in high regard. She didnât fully understand it, sometimes, but she understood enough. âBut there is someone I know who was possessed, and now is not.â She didnât know exactly what had happened to force the demon from Sparrow, but she understood Rilien had something to do with it, at least. Perhaps there was a way to replicate that.
âIt took⊠quite a lot of time. We canât keep him in the Alienage, not with everything thatâs happened.â Amalia bit down on her lip. It was a long way to go for an outside chance, and the risk was enormous. But if Ithilian wanted to take it, then she would, too. âWe could try and get him out, past the Templars, onto the Coast, at least until we can figure out how Sparrow was freed.â If it could be replicated, then that would be an answer. If not⊠that was a bridge they would cross when they reached it.
Amalia sighed, the sound somehow hyperaudible. Perhaps it was only because it was so dark, and the ears took over for the eyes. Reaching forward, she laid a hand on Ithilianâs shoulder, squeezing to offer what assurance she could, her eyes seeking his singular one in the gloom. âI donât know what the right answer is, kadan. I donât know him as well as you do, and I know no more about what the demon will do than anyone else does. But I trust you. Whatever you decide, I will help you. No matter the risk.â That likely didnât make the decision any easier, but then she didnât think anything she could do or say would produce that result, much as it rankled to admit.
"There is one other option I can think of," Ithilian said, looking almost like he wanted to grit his teeth together. It felt wrong to think it, but that was because he was still thinking of the man in the other room as his friend, as someone he grew up alongside. It hadn't yet hit him that Emerion was gone already, and he didn't know when it would. He didn't know what he would feel. He wanted to be wrathful as his nature compelled him to be, and destroy the thing responsible. The Templars, perhaps. Their pressure had caused him to lose himself to this demon. It made what he was about to suggest all the more uncomfortable.
"We deliver him to the Templars. Let them deal with the problem. If we hide him on the Coast for however long it takes to find a way to reverse this, if it's even possible, what cost will others pay? The demon made a direct attack on Meredith. She won't rest until the guilty party is dealt with." She would come down on the Alienage, encourage her zealous servants to act on their suspicions, encourage them at every turn. All while they protected... what? A demon? This was not Sparrow's case. Sparrow had retained some amount of control. Ithilian had yet to see a glimpse of his friend since they encountered him in the Gallows.
"We would need a trick. The demon must think we plan to help it escape, or it might turn on us in the city. We... need Aurora's help. A tunnel pathway leading out of the city, to the Coast. We escort the demon through, but give the Templars a location on the other side. Put the demon down where it's safe." He had to remind himself to keep calling it the demon and not Emerion. It felt like a poor plan; Aurora would hate doing anything for the Templars, no doubt, and Amalia as well seemed against giving anything to Meredith. But Ithilian was forcing himself to think about the immediate effect on the Alienage and little else. Allowing the Templars to kill the demon was the right choice, as far as he could tell, even if it didn't feel right. None of this felt right.
"Is that madness? He wouldn't want his kind to die because of him. Emerion was always a fool, but he owned his mistakes."
âIt isnât madness.â In fact, next to killing him before he had a chance to do any further damage, it was probably the most direct, rational route to take. âBut I donât want you to regret this, kadan. If you are certain of the path, then we will take it. But if you want to see if Emerion can take some portion of himself back before we give up on him, then we can do that instead.â There were ways to contain the demonâs damage in the meantime, if they were willing to give the time and effort, she thought. Meredith had no way of knowing who was responsible for what had happened at the Gallows, and even if she suspected an elf, it would be unlikely for the culprit to go back to the very place heâd come from. There would be a way to throw the stick away from them yet, if they needed to.
There was a time when she would not have offered even the words of caution. But it was Ithilian himself who had helped her realize that she would rather bear the consequences of trusting too much, of having too much hope, of giving the benefit of the doubt, than bear the very same consequences because she didnât trust enough. Emerion was not Ithilian, and that was obvious enough. But he mattered to Ithilian, and so by extension, he mattered to her.
Ithilian didn't want to regret this either. But if anyone came to harm while he selfishly tried to preserve one person close to him, he would regret it all the same. This was one time he felt that patience was not warranted.
"Meredith made this demon. She can have it."
Neither Emerion nor Grath was spotted on their way to the ferry. A quick interrogation of the boatman that arrived to take them across revealed nothing useful, but that didn't necessarily mean anything; there were quite a few boats that traveled to and from the Gallows, and Emerion could have been on any of them. Setting off from the docks, Ithilian adjusted the armor and weapons he had hastily thrown on in his departure. Any scenario in which he needed to use them would be dire; he did not relish the thought of stopping his friend for Meredith's sake. And the Alienage, he had to remind himself.
Boots hit the ground at the base of the Gallows, the three quickly making their way inside. Their eyes covered different directions as they moved, unsure if Emerion would have made his way to the Gallows, or to the Templar headquarters, but in the end, it was Ithilian who spotted one of their quarries. He pointed to the reinforced front doors of the Templar compound, at the heavily armored warrior passing through. "Knight-Lieutenant's armor. But he's alone."
He supposed it could have been another; there were quite a few Knight-Lieutenants in Kirkwall, after all. Something about the way one of the door guards watched him pass through, though...
Whatever Amalia had been expecting to encounter once they made it this far, what she actually found was not it. Sweeping her eyes over the surroundings, she followed the direction of Ithilianâs gesture, pursing her lips slightly and nodding. There was a decent chance that was Grath. But⊠she nudged her kadanâs elbow with her own, and nodded in a slightly different direction, the gesture obvious enough that Nostariel would be able to follow it also.
Because, puzzlingly enough, Emerion appeared to be seated behind a merchant stall, one of several set up in front of the Templar headquarters. As far as she could tell, his body language was relaxedâhis eyes were even closed. Amalia wasnât really sure what to make of that.
"By the..." Ithilian trailed off when he followed Amalia's nod to where Emerion sat, as casually as though he were taking a mid-afternoon nap, in a merchant stall that he acted like he owned. Trying not to give away the seriousness of the situation to anyone that was watching, Ithilian led the way swiftly over to the stall, stopping on the front side of the countertop. It was a large, open, tent-like setup, the wares consisting mostly of herbs and potions.
"Emerion," Ithilian hissed, to get his attention. "Are you insane? What have you done?" In reply, his friend actually smiled, a grin that Ithilian was quite unfamiliar with.
"Well, this is turning out to be quite tragic. For him, that is. Looks like I wasn't even needed." He opened his eyes and looked up them, his irises a strange color of electric blue. Ithilian recoiled from the sight of him, his features shifting quickly from anger to alarm.
"What is this? What are you talking about?"
"He was worried, so worried. Thought he needed to help, but didn't know how. One slip was all it took. He and I are old friends, but now he's given me the room. I knew a way to help you, and much more." The grin on Emerion's face grew, though the look it had did not belong to Emerion at all.
A soft hiss of exhalation escaped Nostariel at the words. She could understand Ithilian not quite grasping what was happening hereâshe didnât want to believe it either, and Emerion was not her childhood friend. But taking it in, the evidence was all there. The relaxed posture, the indicative eye color, the arrogance in his facial expression and his tone, to say nothing of the words themselves. âPride demon.â The words were no louder than a breathy whisperâone did not say such things aloud in the company of Templars to be sure.
She swallowed thickly, and turned wide eyes to Ithilian. This explained quite a lot, but⊠how were they going to handle this? Nostariel knew of only one possession that had ended with the expulsion of the demon, and their chances of replicating Sparrowâs circumstances were, as she understood it, virtually nonexistent. The usual solution in such cases was to kill the host, before or after they became an abomination. But that⊠that was not a decision so easily made. Not when the host was kith or kin.
Pride demon. It didn't take Ithilian long to figure out the meaning behind the words. Possession. Emerion was lost, and the only reason the demon hadn't mutated his body into an abomination was because he was interested in remaining hidden. Not too hidden, obviously, given the incredibly rash actions he had led him to do. The murder of the Templar in the Alienage, the control of the other one... all of it must have been done by the demon. It left Ithilian unsure what to do. He supposed he should have driven a blade into him then and there, but he could not seem to forget the fact that he himself had once given in to Pride, and put his allies at risk. He had been pulled back from that brink by them. Couldn't the same happen for Emerion?
"One moment, please," the demon said through Emerion's mouth, closing his eyes again. "I've left my tool unattended. This won't take long." He had closed his eyes only for a brief moment when a deep boom sounded out, coming from the direction of the Templar headquarters. Even from this distance the reverberations of the blast could be felt, and after a total silence fell for a moment, the first screams pierced the air. The guards at the front gate could not help themselves, leaving their posts to look inside, and see what had occurred.
"A surprise for the officers of the Order," the demon said, eyes open again. He stood, clasping his hands casually together in front of him. "I believe we should go."
While Nostariel was perhaps more inclined to stop and help any potential injuried parties than she was to just walk away from what might have been a walking bomb spell or something worse, she acknowledged that there were plenty of able healers in a Circle, and her time was probably better put to use making sure Ithilian and Amalia werenât implicated in this.
âFollow me, then.â With a baleful glance at Emerionâor rather, the demon using Emerion as transportâshe led the way to the boats, talking one of the ferrymen into letting them across despite the rather obvious disturbance that had just occurred. A fortunate thing, too, because the Templars were quick to close ranks, and it wasnât long before they were out in force, presumably searching for whoever was responsible for this whole thing.
They wouldnât find him, at least not yet. Nostariel may have no personal need of boltholes, but that didnât mean she had none. The one she chose was in Darktown, as rarely did even Templars venture this far into the cityâs rotting underbelly. To their benefit, it looked as though it had remained undisturbed since the last time sheâd seen it, if the cobwebs were anything to go by. Brushing them away as she entered, she let the others file in, then shut the door, plunging the room into darkness for a few seconds before she produced a light by magic. The hideaway was sparsely-furnished, with a rickety table, a couple of rotting chairs, and little else, but at least the floor was made of actual wood, and it was a sight better than a sewer passage, in terms of both smell and contents.
"Dismal place," the demon commented dryly, allowing itself to be guided in by the others. Ithilian had been terrified of the creature feeling threatened at some point during their move here, with the way the Templars were moving around once the word of the attack had gotten out. It was unclear what exactly had happened; word spread quickly, but so too did false reports, and they had heard several on their way to Darktown. Frankly, Ithilian didn't care. Templars were dead, a creature wearing Emerion's face was responsible, and since he had heard no reports of Meredith's death, he had to assume she was alive, and plotting an aggressive move.
The hideout had a side room, which Ithilian was grateful for. He pointed to one of the chairs and glared at the demon. "Sit, and don't move." Not resisting, the demon made his way over and sank down, the chair creaking beneath him. Ithilian looked to Nostariel next. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere. Lethallan." He made his way into the dim side room, waiting for Amalia to close the door behind her before he spoke, his voice quiet and tense.
"I don't know what to do, lethallan."
Amalia shook her head. She really didnât know what to do either. âHissraâŠâ she paused, then corrected herself. âDemons donât let go, kadan. This isnât Feynrielâs dream. If we kill Emerion, he really dies, and the demon with him.â It was, in many ways, the logical thing to do. The demon was clearly in control of the situation, and sheâd never heard of someone just fighting off a possession from superior strength of will or anything like that. These things ended one of two ways: either the abomination was killed, or it killed a lot of other people, and then was killed.
âButâŠâ She could see how much this bothered him. She didnât even have to look to understand, thoughâEmerion was his clan, and Ithilian held clan in high regard. She didnât fully understand it, sometimes, but she understood enough. âBut there is someone I know who was possessed, and now is not.â She didnât know exactly what had happened to force the demon from Sparrow, but she understood Rilien had something to do with it, at least. Perhaps there was a way to replicate that.
âIt took⊠quite a lot of time. We canât keep him in the Alienage, not with everything thatâs happened.â Amalia bit down on her lip. It was a long way to go for an outside chance, and the risk was enormous. But if Ithilian wanted to take it, then she would, too. âWe could try and get him out, past the Templars, onto the Coast, at least until we can figure out how Sparrow was freed.â If it could be replicated, then that would be an answer. If not⊠that was a bridge they would cross when they reached it.
Amalia sighed, the sound somehow hyperaudible. Perhaps it was only because it was so dark, and the ears took over for the eyes. Reaching forward, she laid a hand on Ithilianâs shoulder, squeezing to offer what assurance she could, her eyes seeking his singular one in the gloom. âI donât know what the right answer is, kadan. I donât know him as well as you do, and I know no more about what the demon will do than anyone else does. But I trust you. Whatever you decide, I will help you. No matter the risk.â That likely didnât make the decision any easier, but then she didnât think anything she could do or say would produce that result, much as it rankled to admit.
"There is one other option I can think of," Ithilian said, looking almost like he wanted to grit his teeth together. It felt wrong to think it, but that was because he was still thinking of the man in the other room as his friend, as someone he grew up alongside. It hadn't yet hit him that Emerion was gone already, and he didn't know when it would. He didn't know what he would feel. He wanted to be wrathful as his nature compelled him to be, and destroy the thing responsible. The Templars, perhaps. Their pressure had caused him to lose himself to this demon. It made what he was about to suggest all the more uncomfortable.
"We deliver him to the Templars. Let them deal with the problem. If we hide him on the Coast for however long it takes to find a way to reverse this, if it's even possible, what cost will others pay? The demon made a direct attack on Meredith. She won't rest until the guilty party is dealt with." She would come down on the Alienage, encourage her zealous servants to act on their suspicions, encourage them at every turn. All while they protected... what? A demon? This was not Sparrow's case. Sparrow had retained some amount of control. Ithilian had yet to see a glimpse of his friend since they encountered him in the Gallows.
"We would need a trick. The demon must think we plan to help it escape, or it might turn on us in the city. We... need Aurora's help. A tunnel pathway leading out of the city, to the Coast. We escort the demon through, but give the Templars a location on the other side. Put the demon down where it's safe." He had to remind himself to keep calling it the demon and not Emerion. It felt like a poor plan; Aurora would hate doing anything for the Templars, no doubt, and Amalia as well seemed against giving anything to Meredith. But Ithilian was forcing himself to think about the immediate effect on the Alienage and little else. Allowing the Templars to kill the demon was the right choice, as far as he could tell, even if it didn't feel right. None of this felt right.
"Is that madness? He wouldn't want his kind to die because of him. Emerion was always a fool, but he owned his mistakes."
âIt isnât madness.â In fact, next to killing him before he had a chance to do any further damage, it was probably the most direct, rational route to take. âBut I donât want you to regret this, kadan. If you are certain of the path, then we will take it. But if you want to see if Emerion can take some portion of himself back before we give up on him, then we can do that instead.â There were ways to contain the demonâs damage in the meantime, if they were willing to give the time and effort, she thought. Meredith had no way of knowing who was responsible for what had happened at the Gallows, and even if she suspected an elf, it would be unlikely for the culprit to go back to the very place heâd come from. There would be a way to throw the stick away from them yet, if they needed to.
There was a time when she would not have offered even the words of caution. But it was Ithilian himself who had helped her realize that she would rather bear the consequences of trusting too much, of having too much hope, of giving the benefit of the doubt, than bear the very same consequences because she didnât trust enough. Emerion was not Ithilian, and that was obvious enough. But he mattered to Ithilian, and so by extension, he mattered to her.
Ithilian didn't want to regret this either. But if anyone came to harm while he selfishly tried to preserve one person close to him, he would regret it all the same. This was one time he felt that patience was not warranted.
"Meredith made this demon. She can have it."