After the battle, Ashton leaned against a chuck of masonry and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was dyed red from blood, some from the scratches he'd sustained, some not. So much had happened so fast that he hadn't had time to process it, and even now with a lull in the fighting it was a lot to digest. Perhaps too much to do it in such a short amount of time. He looked around and saw as mages were tending to the wounded, and everyone readying themselves for what was to come. Eventually, the sound of marching armor lilted through the air, causing him to reach for his bow.
Instead of templars however, he was relieved by the sight of the Guard's crimson. Vesper led a contingent of guardsmen toward them, and though helmets concealed their faces he could tell by their body language that they were taken aback by the carnage around them. Ashton pushed himself off of the chuck of stone and approached the Guard, and was greeted by a wave of salutes. "Good to see you are still alive, Captain," Vesper said. Ashton merely nodded in agreement. "Looks like we're late..." She added, noting the absence of Meredith and her templars. Again, Ashton only nodded.
Ashton looked around him again and shook his head, before his gaze finally alighted on the guards in front of him. "Guardsmen!" Ashton said, causing them all to straighten. "Kirkwall is in danger once more. The destruction of the Chantry and Meredith's madness threatens our home," it was difficult to believe that the Chantry was truly gone, but Meredith reaching her breaking point was not. No doubt the city would soon be consumed by panic, which would not be helped by the fighting between the mages and templars.
"It's our job to protect and guard our city from all enemies, be they thugs and bandits, or templars. Fan out and contain the chaos and fighting wherever you can. Keep our city safe, remind everyone that we guard our city." Shouts of agreements followed after and the contingent broke into smaller patrols to better canvas the city. Vesper however, remained. "And what do you intend to do?" she asked.
"Meredith must be stopped," he answered simply. Vesper nodded and asked, "When do we move?"
"We do not, I need you to stay here and coordinate the guard," Vesper moved to contest it, but Ashton cut her off. "I need someone I can trust to do that, and you're the only one. Besides, I need you here in case things do not... Work out for us," he said with an awkward laugh. "Someone needs to lead the guard."
Vesper glared at him hard, hard enough that it caused his to avert his own gaze. Planning on doing this by yourself?" she asked.
Ashton brought his back around and shook it in a negative, "No," he said, looking at the eight others around him. "Not by myself." She followed his gaze and nodded. "She's never had a fight like the one that's coming," She agreed. "Fine, but I'm not leading the guard. You get your ass back out alive, understand?" She said before turning to leave.
Ashton shook his head and moved toward Nostariel. "Well, are you ready?" He asked.
Aurora and Donovan were among the Circle mages as she watched him healing those that were injured in the fighting. Resting against her shoulder was a staff that she had taken from a younger mage who had no business fighting in the first place. She'd make much more use of it anyway. She placed a hand on his shoulder as he worked and spoke. "Once you are done here, take the mages that can't or won't fight, find the others, and hide." Donovan looked up at her with his eyebrows raised.
"Meredith's gone too far this time, we have to try and stop her." She also felt as if it were her fault, somewhat. Had she done something about Pike sooner or maybe-- she discarded the thoughts. Now was neither the time nor place to wallow in her guilt. Donovan looked up at her and nodded. "I will," he said, "Just stay safe."
With everything thus decided, the remainder of the group picked themselves up and headed towards the Gallows. Hightown was mostly deserted from the looks of thingsâpredictably, those who had walls to hide behind were choosing to do so. Nostariel could not even say she blamed them. It was probably better for everyone that they were out of the thick of things, anyway.
Lowtown was a considerably different story. There werenât as many walled safe-places to hide in, and the fighting seemed to still be thick here. About halfway through Lowtown, several of the Lions approached the group, and Lucien split them, taking the small team of Cor, Estella, and Farah to bolster the numbers headed towards the Gallows, and leaving Havard in command of the rest, with instructions to cover the Alienage and the rest of Lowtown, push any fighting back and away from the civilians, and then attempt to either broker a ceasefire or stop whomever they judged needed to be stopped. He trusted them to make the necessary calls.
The chaos was resulting in sporadic bursts of violence, though most of it ended when the well-armed group headed for the Gallows arrived. Naturally, given the chaos, there was an excess of criminals on the streets, trying to dodge both Guards and Templars. Perhaps half of the Templars they did encounter didn't even know what was going on. Meredith hadn't encountered them, and they had no intention of immediately jumping to violence. Wisely, they yielded when Sophia or Lucien advised them to. The rest, Sophia didn't doubt, had gone with the Knight-Commander, to perform their grisly work in the Gallows.
The docks had ceased all operations for the night, but when one of the ferry owners spotted the well-armed group with Sophia at the head, he immediately offered to take them across, their need being quite obvious. She thanked him, and they set off. In the distance, lights were flashing in the Gallows, spells being cast, Templars smiting targets. The fight had already begun, though it appeared disorganized. Meredith had almost certainly arrived ahead of them. There wasn't much time.
The moment the ferry touched the docks of the Gallows Sophia was off, blade in hand, her allies following closely behind. She could hear screams even from this distance, crackling fire and lightning, shouting of orders. Not very far up the stairs there were bodies, Templar and mage alike, left where they'd fallen. When they reached the Gallows courtyard, they could see a few scattered mages cautiously retreating back up the stairs towards the Circle tower, ranks of Templars surrounding them. Meredith was approaching from the left, her glowing sword in hand, directing her soldiers into order.
"Meredith, stop!" Orsino called out, bringing the group to the attention of the Templars. There were far more here than the small group they had battled with in Hightown. This was the full might of Kirkwall's Templars, quickly moving itself into organization. There were hundreds at least in sight, and surely more still in the Templar quarters further in. Too many to fight. Thankfully, Meredith was still willing to have a conversation, insofar as she didn't immediately order their executions.
"Let us speak, Meredith!" Orsino continued, stepping forward over the bodies of mages he led. "Before this battle destroys the city you claim to protect!"
"I will entertain a surrender. Nothing more." Meredith turned from the mages backing up the stairs towards Orsino, and approached, her mass of Templars at her back. The fighting lulled to a stop as the two leaders came before one another, a tense silence falling over the Gallows. "Speak, if you have something to say."
"Revoke the Right of Annulment, Meredith, before this goes too far. Imprison us, if you must. Search the tower. I will even help you. But do not kill us all for an act we did not commit." Sophia could see the immediate value of discourse, in preserving their own lives, but even she would not agree with what Orsino proposed. The city could not be subjected to Meredith any longer. Surely there were Templars among the masses here that felt uneasy about this...
"The grand cleric is dead, killed by a mage," the Knight-Commander responded. "The people will demand retribution, and I will give it to them. Your offer is commendable, Orsino, but it comes too late."
Much as she might have wished otherwise, Nostariel could tell that there was no longer any reasoning with Meredith. She was set on this course of actionâperhaps sheâd even been waiting for an excuse to do something extreme like this. Maybe not, but in any case, that was where this situation was going now. If they had any hope of averting the chaos that would follow, they had to take her footing out from under her.
Already, Nostariel could see faint unease appearing on some Templar faces at the mention of Annulmentâit was the most extreme of all possibilities, and she knew that there were Templars here who would not be fond of the idea in the slightest. Some of them were leaders, or at least older, respected members of the order. âNo, it isnât.â She spoke loud enough to draw the collective attention of the crowd towards her, then swallowed. Diplomat, she was not. But hopefully, she wouldnât have to be.
âNo one else has to die tonight. Think about this, Templars. I know that youâre good people. You want the best for Kirkwall, for the Circle, and for your charges, the mages who inhabit it. The Grand Cleric was killed, and our Chantry destroyed, by one man. One man with views and attitudes that do not reflect all or even many mages. Youâve watched over these men and women for years. You know them, and you know they would never condone something like this. So how can you believe that they deserve to die for something they would never approve of, let alone do?â
She cast around, looking for faces she knew in the crowd. âSer Cullen, Ser Thrask, Ser Emeric. You know that alternative solutions are possible to situations like this. Iâve seen you all seek those solutions, and succeed. This time is no different. Please, stay your swords. This is not the time to react to violence with hatred and fear. We have to be better than that.â
Templars? Mages? Who knew what they were thinking in this moment, anyhow. These were unusual affairs, ones she was inexperienced in dealing with. Any repertoire of charisma she might have had to still their blades, or sway their thoughts, was embarrassingly lacking so Sparrow merely stood there, hands filled with the shaft of her great-hammer should they converge and decide that yes, we'll simply execute them.
She let the others do the talking and prepared herself for the worst of it, eying the stiff-necked Templars, and the quivering mages scampering up the stairs. Squinting her murky eyes, she counted them. Far too many. Hundreds, maybe? Shielded in steel-plates, and glistening metal. And there, Meredith with her glowing blade and damning voice. Even she wasn't foolish enough to leap into shark-infested waters. Right of Annulment? She wasn't sure what that was, but it didn't sound good.
Nostariel's words had a few of the Templars looking to one another, looking to Meredith, or looking away altogether. Sophia didn't think she could have said it better herself. The Knight-Commander, however, spoke loudly and clearly before any sort of action could be taken.
"It is not with hatred or fear that we perform this duty. It is with faith in the Maker, and the knowledge that this Annulment has become a necessity."
Sophia could not simply listen to that. "How long will you spout the Maker's name when it suits you, using the faith of the devout to maintain your grip on power?" She looked to the Templars. "Follow your consciences, what you know to be right. Do not accept the Knight-Commander's will as that of the Maker's. Allow your faith to strengthen you, not blind you."
"I expected nothing less from you, Sophia. You accuse me of twisting the faith of my Templars, only to attempt it yourself in your own quest for power. But enough of this. As I stated, if you stand with the Circle, you will share their fate."
"So what is it to be, Meredith?" Orsino asked. "Do we fight here?" Meredith seemed to consider the idea, but waved her hand back towards the Circle tower.
"Go, prepare your people, or ask them to surrender if they would like it to be swift. The rest of my forces will not be long."
Orsino was furious, and frustrated. He glared at the Knight-Commander. "This isn't over..."
The Circle tower wasn't a place anyone in Kirkwall visited often. The great entry room after the cold courtyard was about as welcoming as the dungeons elsewhere in the Gallows, all grey stone and metal bars. The mages here were terrified; the doors had been locked, and Orsino personally had to assure them that they wouldn't be slaughtered for them to open them up. Once the entire group was inside, they were closed again. The Templars would come through easily enough when they wanted to, and while Sophia supposed they could bar them, there wasn't really a point in delaying. Who would come? The city guard and the Lions lacked the numbers needed to turn the tide, and had their hands full in the city regardless. Only more Templars would come.
The reinforcements they needed were already outside, among the zealots. The reasonable men and women had to stand up to this, or the mages and all their allies would die. If Meredith lost her grip on them, her footing, she would lose her power, and be vulnerable. Otherwise...
While Orsino tried to prepare his mages for battle, Sophia located a small shrine to Andraste set into a wall. She had not done so publicly for quite some time, but now seemed a time when it was most needed. She laid down her sword horizontally before her, knelt, and silently began to pray.
A moderate distance away, Ashton and Nostariel were sitting down on a small staircase. Sheâd leaned all the way into his shoulder, her equipment resting next to her. Her eyes were shut, but she clearly wasnât asleep, because her mouth was moving, though whatever she was saying was quiet enough that it didnât carry far. His head rested against hers, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and his hand holding hers. His equipment likewise was leaned up against the staircase, and he nodded along as she spoke, and replied in the same quiet tone that she used. A gentle smile graced his face every now and then, and he lightly squeezed her shoulders.
Amalia, meanwhile, had taken up a position near the entranceway, and was looking out through the bars in the gate to where their foes would almost certainly be coming through. The steady rasp of a whetstone over steel indicated that she was sharpening one of her knives, but it was more for something to do with her hands than out of any particular need to fine-tune the instrument, since she was quite scrupulous about the condition of her equipment to begin with, and it was already sharp enough.
Lucien stood with his Lions, Rilien nearby as well, and tried to provide a calm counterweight to the nervous energy that he could sense in two of the three of them. Farah seemed calmer, probably in part due to her comparative wealth of battle experience. Cor was working hard to keep his expression more neutral than he really felt, and Estella was standing quite close to Rilien, obviously seeking equanimity in the presence of someone who was never really anything but composed. Her constant shifting of her weight from one foot to another belied her anxiety, though. Rilien, apparently aware of her mental state, set a hand on top of her head in what from anyone else would have been a soothing gesture, his eyes flicking mindfully from this group to Aurora's to Sparrow.
There was no point in reassuring them of the odds, because the odds were extremely grim. But Lucien personally was choosing not to let it get to himâheâd been against bad odds before. Perhaps that steadiness would help, perhaps it wouldnât, but he wasnât going to lie to them.
If there had ever been a situation where Sparrow's back hadn't been against a wall since living in Kirkwall, she would have been pleasantly surprised. She supposed, this was no different. Thinking back on her many mistakes or kneeling in front of unfamiliar gods or goddesses in the hopes that they conferred them with some kind of tide-turning luck felt foolish enough to participate in. However, she did neither of these things. The palpable tension in the room felt as thick as rain clouds, promising a violent storm instead of new beginnings.
She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck from side to side, choosing to perch a few paces away from Aurora and her fellow mages. Surrounded by all of her companions, in yet another calamity that threatened their lives, felt as natural as breathingâas natural as bristling her hackles when backed into a corner. She would bare her fangs, and swing her mace, as long as she still has breath in her. Settling her gaze on the gate Amalia was seated next to: she understood this with a clarity reminiscent of her days in the Qun.
Sparrow exhaled, calmer than she'd thought was possible in a situation like this, and leaned against the mace cradled between her legs, pressing her cheek against the cool metal. Besides being around people she genuinely cared for, it was the only comfort she could find in such a confined place. Solid metal against the palm of her hands, fingers woven together: grounding her in place. As unusual as this felt, it was real. How she felt about the entire situation? Her inclinations towards mages and all of their ilk aside, it didn't matter as long as her friends were here. Politics be damned.
She tipped her head towards Aurora and cracked a lopsided grin. Whether it was from a steely perseverance or an insistent thirst to get this over with, her smile hardly wavered, as she chirped a crooning, âAfter all this is said and done, we should travel. See the sights. Become heroes. I'd say we're nearly there, anyhow.â She swallowed around the jittery flutter in her stomach, âI've got a ship too.â Her grin simpered as she unraveled her fingers, and pinched her index fingers close together, ââFine. Small vessel.â
Because, if death came today. She'd be ready. But she much preferred her flighty vision.
Aurora had been preparing the circle mages among them for the battle ahead. Still, they possessed only a short amount of time and there wasn't much that could be done to turn the handful of mages into a force capable of fighting off the entire Templar order. Instead she focused on things that would help them survive the longest. A grim outlook, and it played out on her face at time among other reasons. In the corner of her mind, she couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for this. Perhaps this day was long in coming, and perhaps the conflict between mages and templars would've boiled over regardless, but Pike's actions forced this upon them and she wasn't able to stop it.
Instructing a young mage on how to use her magic best to deal with a group of opponents, Aurora turned as Sparrow spoke to her. Her grim countenance broke into a tiny smile for a moment. "We'll see," she said simply.
It was a lovely thought, one she would've loved to trade in for their current outlook. "I'll get to be the first mate, right?" She said, her smile widening allowing herself that bit of fancy. It certainly was a better thought than the ones she had presently.
Trading responsibilities and doubts for childish conversation fit Sparrow just fine, and seeing Aurora's fleeting smile made everything a little lighter. She wasn't naive enough to believe that they would make it out just fine. No one was going to say it out loudâbut their odds weren't good and no amount of back-patting would increase their chances. She did know, however, that she didn't want to see anyone else die. She looked around at the others, noting their activities, or lack thereof. All of them would fight to the death, if need be: Sparrow included. She realized that in moments like this, she never felt more at home.
âI wouldn't have it any other way.â
Instead of templars however, he was relieved by the sight of the Guard's crimson. Vesper led a contingent of guardsmen toward them, and though helmets concealed their faces he could tell by their body language that they were taken aback by the carnage around them. Ashton pushed himself off of the chuck of stone and approached the Guard, and was greeted by a wave of salutes. "Good to see you are still alive, Captain," Vesper said. Ashton merely nodded in agreement. "Looks like we're late..." She added, noting the absence of Meredith and her templars. Again, Ashton only nodded.
Ashton looked around him again and shook his head, before his gaze finally alighted on the guards in front of him. "Guardsmen!" Ashton said, causing them all to straighten. "Kirkwall is in danger once more. The destruction of the Chantry and Meredith's madness threatens our home," it was difficult to believe that the Chantry was truly gone, but Meredith reaching her breaking point was not. No doubt the city would soon be consumed by panic, which would not be helped by the fighting between the mages and templars.
"It's our job to protect and guard our city from all enemies, be they thugs and bandits, or templars. Fan out and contain the chaos and fighting wherever you can. Keep our city safe, remind everyone that we guard our city." Shouts of agreements followed after and the contingent broke into smaller patrols to better canvas the city. Vesper however, remained. "And what do you intend to do?" she asked.
"Meredith must be stopped," he answered simply. Vesper nodded and asked, "When do we move?"
"We do not, I need you to stay here and coordinate the guard," Vesper moved to contest it, but Ashton cut her off. "I need someone I can trust to do that, and you're the only one. Besides, I need you here in case things do not... Work out for us," he said with an awkward laugh. "Someone needs to lead the guard."
Vesper glared at him hard, hard enough that it caused his to avert his own gaze. Planning on doing this by yourself?" she asked.
Ashton brought his back around and shook it in a negative, "No," he said, looking at the eight others around him. "Not by myself." She followed his gaze and nodded. "She's never had a fight like the one that's coming," She agreed. "Fine, but I'm not leading the guard. You get your ass back out alive, understand?" She said before turning to leave.
Ashton shook his head and moved toward Nostariel. "Well, are you ready?" He asked.
Aurora and Donovan were among the Circle mages as she watched him healing those that were injured in the fighting. Resting against her shoulder was a staff that she had taken from a younger mage who had no business fighting in the first place. She'd make much more use of it anyway. She placed a hand on his shoulder as he worked and spoke. "Once you are done here, take the mages that can't or won't fight, find the others, and hide." Donovan looked up at her with his eyebrows raised.
"Meredith's gone too far this time, we have to try and stop her." She also felt as if it were her fault, somewhat. Had she done something about Pike sooner or maybe-- she discarded the thoughts. Now was neither the time nor place to wallow in her guilt. Donovan looked up at her and nodded. "I will," he said, "Just stay safe."
With everything thus decided, the remainder of the group picked themselves up and headed towards the Gallows. Hightown was mostly deserted from the looks of thingsâpredictably, those who had walls to hide behind were choosing to do so. Nostariel could not even say she blamed them. It was probably better for everyone that they were out of the thick of things, anyway.
Lowtown was a considerably different story. There werenât as many walled safe-places to hide in, and the fighting seemed to still be thick here. About halfway through Lowtown, several of the Lions approached the group, and Lucien split them, taking the small team of Cor, Estella, and Farah to bolster the numbers headed towards the Gallows, and leaving Havard in command of the rest, with instructions to cover the Alienage and the rest of Lowtown, push any fighting back and away from the civilians, and then attempt to either broker a ceasefire or stop whomever they judged needed to be stopped. He trusted them to make the necessary calls.
The chaos was resulting in sporadic bursts of violence, though most of it ended when the well-armed group headed for the Gallows arrived. Naturally, given the chaos, there was an excess of criminals on the streets, trying to dodge both Guards and Templars. Perhaps half of the Templars they did encounter didn't even know what was going on. Meredith hadn't encountered them, and they had no intention of immediately jumping to violence. Wisely, they yielded when Sophia or Lucien advised them to. The rest, Sophia didn't doubt, had gone with the Knight-Commander, to perform their grisly work in the Gallows.
The docks had ceased all operations for the night, but when one of the ferry owners spotted the well-armed group with Sophia at the head, he immediately offered to take them across, their need being quite obvious. She thanked him, and they set off. In the distance, lights were flashing in the Gallows, spells being cast, Templars smiting targets. The fight had already begun, though it appeared disorganized. Meredith had almost certainly arrived ahead of them. There wasn't much time.
The moment the ferry touched the docks of the Gallows Sophia was off, blade in hand, her allies following closely behind. She could hear screams even from this distance, crackling fire and lightning, shouting of orders. Not very far up the stairs there were bodies, Templar and mage alike, left where they'd fallen. When they reached the Gallows courtyard, they could see a few scattered mages cautiously retreating back up the stairs towards the Circle tower, ranks of Templars surrounding them. Meredith was approaching from the left, her glowing sword in hand, directing her soldiers into order.
"Meredith, stop!" Orsino called out, bringing the group to the attention of the Templars. There were far more here than the small group they had battled with in Hightown. This was the full might of Kirkwall's Templars, quickly moving itself into organization. There were hundreds at least in sight, and surely more still in the Templar quarters further in. Too many to fight. Thankfully, Meredith was still willing to have a conversation, insofar as she didn't immediately order their executions.
"Let us speak, Meredith!" Orsino continued, stepping forward over the bodies of mages he led. "Before this battle destroys the city you claim to protect!"
"I will entertain a surrender. Nothing more." Meredith turned from the mages backing up the stairs towards Orsino, and approached, her mass of Templars at her back. The fighting lulled to a stop as the two leaders came before one another, a tense silence falling over the Gallows. "Speak, if you have something to say."
"Revoke the Right of Annulment, Meredith, before this goes too far. Imprison us, if you must. Search the tower. I will even help you. But do not kill us all for an act we did not commit." Sophia could see the immediate value of discourse, in preserving their own lives, but even she would not agree with what Orsino proposed. The city could not be subjected to Meredith any longer. Surely there were Templars among the masses here that felt uneasy about this...
"The grand cleric is dead, killed by a mage," the Knight-Commander responded. "The people will demand retribution, and I will give it to them. Your offer is commendable, Orsino, but it comes too late."
Much as she might have wished otherwise, Nostariel could tell that there was no longer any reasoning with Meredith. She was set on this course of actionâperhaps sheâd even been waiting for an excuse to do something extreme like this. Maybe not, but in any case, that was where this situation was going now. If they had any hope of averting the chaos that would follow, they had to take her footing out from under her.
Already, Nostariel could see faint unease appearing on some Templar faces at the mention of Annulmentâit was the most extreme of all possibilities, and she knew that there were Templars here who would not be fond of the idea in the slightest. Some of them were leaders, or at least older, respected members of the order. âNo, it isnât.â She spoke loud enough to draw the collective attention of the crowd towards her, then swallowed. Diplomat, she was not. But hopefully, she wouldnât have to be.
âNo one else has to die tonight. Think about this, Templars. I know that youâre good people. You want the best for Kirkwall, for the Circle, and for your charges, the mages who inhabit it. The Grand Cleric was killed, and our Chantry destroyed, by one man. One man with views and attitudes that do not reflect all or even many mages. Youâve watched over these men and women for years. You know them, and you know they would never condone something like this. So how can you believe that they deserve to die for something they would never approve of, let alone do?â
She cast around, looking for faces she knew in the crowd. âSer Cullen, Ser Thrask, Ser Emeric. You know that alternative solutions are possible to situations like this. Iâve seen you all seek those solutions, and succeed. This time is no different. Please, stay your swords. This is not the time to react to violence with hatred and fear. We have to be better than that.â
Templars? Mages? Who knew what they were thinking in this moment, anyhow. These were unusual affairs, ones she was inexperienced in dealing with. Any repertoire of charisma she might have had to still their blades, or sway their thoughts, was embarrassingly lacking so Sparrow merely stood there, hands filled with the shaft of her great-hammer should they converge and decide that yes, we'll simply execute them.
She let the others do the talking and prepared herself for the worst of it, eying the stiff-necked Templars, and the quivering mages scampering up the stairs. Squinting her murky eyes, she counted them. Far too many. Hundreds, maybe? Shielded in steel-plates, and glistening metal. And there, Meredith with her glowing blade and damning voice. Even she wasn't foolish enough to leap into shark-infested waters. Right of Annulment? She wasn't sure what that was, but it didn't sound good.
Nostariel's words had a few of the Templars looking to one another, looking to Meredith, or looking away altogether. Sophia didn't think she could have said it better herself. The Knight-Commander, however, spoke loudly and clearly before any sort of action could be taken.
"It is not with hatred or fear that we perform this duty. It is with faith in the Maker, and the knowledge that this Annulment has become a necessity."
Sophia could not simply listen to that. "How long will you spout the Maker's name when it suits you, using the faith of the devout to maintain your grip on power?" She looked to the Templars. "Follow your consciences, what you know to be right. Do not accept the Knight-Commander's will as that of the Maker's. Allow your faith to strengthen you, not blind you."
"I expected nothing less from you, Sophia. You accuse me of twisting the faith of my Templars, only to attempt it yourself in your own quest for power. But enough of this. As I stated, if you stand with the Circle, you will share their fate."
"So what is it to be, Meredith?" Orsino asked. "Do we fight here?" Meredith seemed to consider the idea, but waved her hand back towards the Circle tower.
"Go, prepare your people, or ask them to surrender if they would like it to be swift. The rest of my forces will not be long."
Orsino was furious, and frustrated. He glared at the Knight-Commander. "This isn't over..."
The Circle tower wasn't a place anyone in Kirkwall visited often. The great entry room after the cold courtyard was about as welcoming as the dungeons elsewhere in the Gallows, all grey stone and metal bars. The mages here were terrified; the doors had been locked, and Orsino personally had to assure them that they wouldn't be slaughtered for them to open them up. Once the entire group was inside, they were closed again. The Templars would come through easily enough when they wanted to, and while Sophia supposed they could bar them, there wasn't really a point in delaying. Who would come? The city guard and the Lions lacked the numbers needed to turn the tide, and had their hands full in the city regardless. Only more Templars would come.
The reinforcements they needed were already outside, among the zealots. The reasonable men and women had to stand up to this, or the mages and all their allies would die. If Meredith lost her grip on them, her footing, she would lose her power, and be vulnerable. Otherwise...
While Orsino tried to prepare his mages for battle, Sophia located a small shrine to Andraste set into a wall. She had not done so publicly for quite some time, but now seemed a time when it was most needed. She laid down her sword horizontally before her, knelt, and silently began to pray.
A moderate distance away, Ashton and Nostariel were sitting down on a small staircase. Sheâd leaned all the way into his shoulder, her equipment resting next to her. Her eyes were shut, but she clearly wasnât asleep, because her mouth was moving, though whatever she was saying was quiet enough that it didnât carry far. His head rested against hers, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and his hand holding hers. His equipment likewise was leaned up against the staircase, and he nodded along as she spoke, and replied in the same quiet tone that she used. A gentle smile graced his face every now and then, and he lightly squeezed her shoulders.
Amalia, meanwhile, had taken up a position near the entranceway, and was looking out through the bars in the gate to where their foes would almost certainly be coming through. The steady rasp of a whetstone over steel indicated that she was sharpening one of her knives, but it was more for something to do with her hands than out of any particular need to fine-tune the instrument, since she was quite scrupulous about the condition of her equipment to begin with, and it was already sharp enough.
Lucien stood with his Lions, Rilien nearby as well, and tried to provide a calm counterweight to the nervous energy that he could sense in two of the three of them. Farah seemed calmer, probably in part due to her comparative wealth of battle experience. Cor was working hard to keep his expression more neutral than he really felt, and Estella was standing quite close to Rilien, obviously seeking equanimity in the presence of someone who was never really anything but composed. Her constant shifting of her weight from one foot to another belied her anxiety, though. Rilien, apparently aware of her mental state, set a hand on top of her head in what from anyone else would have been a soothing gesture, his eyes flicking mindfully from this group to Aurora's to Sparrow.
There was no point in reassuring them of the odds, because the odds were extremely grim. But Lucien personally was choosing not to let it get to himâheâd been against bad odds before. Perhaps that steadiness would help, perhaps it wouldnât, but he wasnât going to lie to them.
If there had ever been a situation where Sparrow's back hadn't been against a wall since living in Kirkwall, she would have been pleasantly surprised. She supposed, this was no different. Thinking back on her many mistakes or kneeling in front of unfamiliar gods or goddesses in the hopes that they conferred them with some kind of tide-turning luck felt foolish enough to participate in. However, she did neither of these things. The palpable tension in the room felt as thick as rain clouds, promising a violent storm instead of new beginnings.
She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck from side to side, choosing to perch a few paces away from Aurora and her fellow mages. Surrounded by all of her companions, in yet another calamity that threatened their lives, felt as natural as breathingâas natural as bristling her hackles when backed into a corner. She would bare her fangs, and swing her mace, as long as she still has breath in her. Settling her gaze on the gate Amalia was seated next to: she understood this with a clarity reminiscent of her days in the Qun.
Sparrow exhaled, calmer than she'd thought was possible in a situation like this, and leaned against the mace cradled between her legs, pressing her cheek against the cool metal. Besides being around people she genuinely cared for, it was the only comfort she could find in such a confined place. Solid metal against the palm of her hands, fingers woven together: grounding her in place. As unusual as this felt, it was real. How she felt about the entire situation? Her inclinations towards mages and all of their ilk aside, it didn't matter as long as her friends were here. Politics be damned.
She tipped her head towards Aurora and cracked a lopsided grin. Whether it was from a steely perseverance or an insistent thirst to get this over with, her smile hardly wavered, as she chirped a crooning, âAfter all this is said and done, we should travel. See the sights. Become heroes. I'd say we're nearly there, anyhow.â She swallowed around the jittery flutter in her stomach, âI've got a ship too.â Her grin simpered as she unraveled her fingers, and pinched her index fingers close together, ââFine. Small vessel.â
Because, if death came today. She'd be ready. But she much preferred her flighty vision.
Aurora had been preparing the circle mages among them for the battle ahead. Still, they possessed only a short amount of time and there wasn't much that could be done to turn the handful of mages into a force capable of fighting off the entire Templar order. Instead she focused on things that would help them survive the longest. A grim outlook, and it played out on her face at time among other reasons. In the corner of her mind, she couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for this. Perhaps this day was long in coming, and perhaps the conflict between mages and templars would've boiled over regardless, but Pike's actions forced this upon them and she wasn't able to stop it.
Instructing a young mage on how to use her magic best to deal with a group of opponents, Aurora turned as Sparrow spoke to her. Her grim countenance broke into a tiny smile for a moment. "We'll see," she said simply.
It was a lovely thought, one she would've loved to trade in for their current outlook. "I'll get to be the first mate, right?" She said, her smile widening allowing herself that bit of fancy. It certainly was a better thought than the ones she had presently.
Trading responsibilities and doubts for childish conversation fit Sparrow just fine, and seeing Aurora's fleeting smile made everything a little lighter. She wasn't naive enough to believe that they would make it out just fine. No one was going to say it out loudâbut their odds weren't good and no amount of back-patting would increase their chances. She did know, however, that she didn't want to see anyone else die. She looked around at the others, noting their activities, or lack thereof. All of them would fight to the death, if need be: Sparrow included. She realized that in moments like this, she never felt more at home.
âI wouldn't have it any other way.â