There were far fewer loyalist mages than there were rebel mages, and it made Arethin consider just how bad the situation in the Circles must have been. Being Dalish,she knew the horror stories, and of course she knew what the Kirkwall Circle had been like, but she also knew that it took a great deal of pressure for anyone to fight in any conflict.
Vivienne had also taken in a large number of Tranquil. Though they were unnerving, it was good that they had someone to care for them, and surely Pharamond at Haven would be able to help them.
Vivienne and Dorian seemed to be considered the de-facto leaders of the loyalist mages by the mages themselves, or at least Dorian was Vivienne's second in command. This was odd, as Dorian was Tevinter and not technically a Circle mage.
Arethin returned to Haven to find it in chaos.
Grand Enchanter Fiona had raised an unholy uproar, and Arethin had no idea why until Leliana explained.
“The Warden Blackwall is no Warden at all,” Leliana said. “Fiona was familiar with him, and this man is not him.”
“Who is he, then?” Arethin asked.
Leliana shrugged. “We haven't had the time to look into it yet,” she said. “A criminal of some variety, I should think.”
“Don't worry about it,” Arethin said. “Does it seem very important to know? We're so close to closing the Breach...”
“Look into the matter,” Leliana suggested. “Beyond that, it is not so important, I agree.”
Arethin and Fiona went to speak to Blackwall themselves.
“If you're not a true Warden, you're not really any use to us,” Arethin folded her arms. “And I don't like being mislead.”
“I didn't realize that you needed a Warden for—for something related to magic,” Blackwall insisted.
“Well what in the name of Mythal could we have wanted a Warden for otherwise?” Arethin demanded. “You don't know where Surana is, and we have plenty of other warriors! What did you think a Warden did?”
“I didn't realize it was so involved with magic!”
Arethin sighed. “You should go and seek out the Wardens, if you wish,” Arethin said. “It is no business of mine where you go.”
Blackwall nodded.
“He has been impersonating a Warden!” Fiona exclaimed.
“And I am no judge or leader,” Arethin said. “He came to us to try and do good. So it seems only fair to continue to let him try.”
Fiona glared at him. “Ambassador--”
“If I am no authority, neither are you,” Arethin said. “The Inquisition barely has the authority to try Alexius, and he did a great deal of damage. This man can go and try to do more good if he wants.”
“Thank you, lady,” Blackwall said quietly.
“You're welcome. Now be off, the Grand Enchanter disapproves of your being here.”
“Wait,” Fiona said with narrowed eyes as Blackwall turned to leave. “You are not Blackwall. Who are you?” When he hesitated, she added “Do me the courtesy of telling me your name, at least.”
“Ranier,” he said at last. “Thom Ranier.”
“Then, Ranier,” Arethin said. “Go, and mayhap if you find the wardens they will take you in.”
So Ranier left.
Vivienne and Fiona hated each other. They could barely be in the same room without sniping at each other. Vivienne also had a very low opinion of Seeker Lanaya, a fact that she did not disguise.
“I suppose you would have us all hiding in the forest, on the run from anyone who hunted us,” she told Lanaya when the subject of Dalish mages came up.
Lanaya's back stiffened. “Preferably, I would have no one hunting the Dalish,” she snapped. “Do not pretend that it is because of our magic that people attack us.”
“Is it not?”
“No,” she said. “It is not.”
“Precisely,” Fiona said. “The dwarves and the Dalish and the Avvar and countless others have no problems with mages being free, and yet you insist if they are free that only havok will result.”
“Disregarding the amount of demons that result from such a lack of regulation--”
Lanaya gasped, outraged, but Vivienne plowed ahead.
“What would you do about those mobs who attack defenseless mages? People are afraid of magic, and you cannot change that.”
“My people are not afraid of magic!” Lanaya exclaimed.
“Perhaps. But what do you do about the people who are, now?”
“I cannot answer for those who let their fears get the best of them,” Fiona snapped. “But I know that the solution to fear is not to lock mages away!”
“Your precious Templars kidnap children from our Clans!” Lanaya said. “Mages cannot marry, cannot have children of their own, cannot move about freely—Madame de Fer, is this really what you want?”
“What I want is somewhere where mages might be safe from the mobs that would harm them, and from the demons who would stalk them,” Vivienne said. “I want somewhere where they might learn in peace—the most dangerous thing to a mage is a lack of knowledge, and your scattershot methods of teaching will only enforce that.”
“I beg your pardon, but Calenhad Circle was not of Dalish design,” Lanaya snapped. “Calenhad, that place infested with abominations and demons, was a Circle.”
“Enough, all of you!” Arethin raised her hands at last. “Right now, we need to focus on the Breach. Then we can deal with the mage issue.”
“You will simply return to the Dalish when this is all over,” Vivienne said. “It has little to do with you, if what Keeper Lanaya has said is accurate.”
“It has to do with me if the Templars are reinstated and insist on hunting down my people,” Arethin snapped, her back going ramrod straight. “However, right this instant, we have to try and deal with the hole in the sky.”
“We must also deal with Elthina,” Leliana said, her brows knit in a frown.
“Truer words never spoken,” Fiona said. “But how do you wish to do that?”
Leliana tapped her lip. “She has her own supporters,” she said. “But many of those are dwindling, split between us, her, and any other options that they can find.”
“Lord Seeker Lambert's death also upset things,” Josephine explained. “Moreso because they have no idea who killed him.”
“They claim it happened right after the red lyrium infected Templars turned on the others,” Leliana said. “But it was not a wound inflicted by them.”
“We must have control of the Templars back,” Cassandra said. Lanaya and Arethin exchanged a doubtful look. “We cannot restore the Chantry without them.”
“I agree, my dear, but how precisely are we to regain control of the Order?” Vivienne asked. “Lambert was a problem, yes, but they were dissatisfied enough that they joined him in the first place.”
“Not all of them,” Barris said softly.
“Well, of course not, but the majority did,” Vivienne gave a tiny sigh. “We must address why that is.”
“The answer is simple,” Fiona snapped. “They wished all power over mages, and when they could not have that, they wished to kill us.”
“As usual, you oversimplify a vastly complicated issue,” Vivienne said.
“Well, Madame, what exactly is your answer?” Arethin demanded, folding her arms.
“My dear, to regain the trust of the Order, we must give them something that Lambert never could,” Vivienne said. “The blessing of the Maker.”
“They had that, until they rebelled,” Cassandra growled. “And those who follow Elthina think that she has given it to them.”
Vivienne scoffed. “My dear, Elthina can claim no true control,” she said. “Not if we play this out in the correct fashion.”
“In that case, how should we deal with her?” Arethin asked.
“The Order can still be salvaged,” Vivienne insisted. “We can save them, while removing Elthina.”
Arethin snorted.
“My dear, what do you propose to do?” Vivienne asked. “Let them run rampant? Kill all of them?”
“Well, I'm sure we could kill all of them, if we really wanted to,” Arethin said, her tone dark. Lanaya raised her eyebrows.
“We don't have to do that!” Josephine said.
“Why not? Didn't they try to kill your Divine, and attack Val Royeaux?” Arethin asked. “Why do they somehow deserve more regard than mages? If a mage army had done that, you would have killed all of them!”
“An apostate destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry, and the Kirkwall Circle was annulled,” Fiona said. “Why do Templars deserve more consideration than mages?”
“Templars are readily manipulated,” Vivienne said. “Many of them are younger sons and daughters, the poor, the destitute, the ill-educated, reliant upon their superiors for what they must do.”
Barris frowned at her.
“I speak only the truth, my dear,” Vivienne said. “For all they are an effective army when wielded by the right hand, the fact remains that when taught to be a tool, one will behave as a tool does. Elthina is simply the incorrect user.”
Arethin waved a hand. “We need to close the Breach before anything else. We can do that now.”
Leliana hesitated. “There's the possibility that without the Breach, we will have no leverage over Elthina,” she said.
Everyone stared at her.
“What do you mean?” Arethin asked at length.
“My dear, you cannot seriously be suggesting that we wait to close that abberation,” Vivienne said, her eyebrows raised.
“Not necessarily,” Leliana said. “However, at the moment, this is something that she is afraid of.”
“And we have also claimed that we are the only ones who can close it,” Josephine said.
“Exactly,” Leliana nodded. “But when it is closed, they will have little reason to listen to us anymore.”
“Leliana, my dear, we cannot put off rectifying this accident merely because it is politically inconvenient,”
“The point is a bit moot, anyway.” Fiona kneaded her forehead. “We are still trying to work out the best way to approach the Breach,” she said. “It will continue to take time.”
“For once, we agree,” Vivienne said. “There can be no mistakes here. Any error on our part might only result in the Breach growing worse.”
“Therefore, we have some time,” Fiona said.
“But are we close?” Arethin asked.
“We're close.”
Dorian and Vivienne kept themselves close to the loyalist mages, who holed up in a small camp just outside of Haven's walls. Arethin went to go see them, and check how they were settling in.
“This place is well enough,” Vivienne said. “Not very defensible, but it is good to be so close to the Breach.”
Arethin nodded. “I don't think everyone will stay here after it's closed,” she said. “But apart from that, how are you and your people doing?”
“Sleeping is rather strange,” Dorian admitted.
'How so?”
“Well—time passing is strange, truth be told,” he said.
“How long did you spend there?” Arethin said. “You said years, but--”
“It was years,” Vivienne said. “A particularly frustrated mage calculated it.”
“In the future, you told Leliana you had seen your share of horrors,” Arethin said. “What did you mean by that?”
“You would not wish to hear it, my dear,” Vivienne said after sharing a look with Dorian.
“It's not important, not really,” Dorian said. “Better left forgotten.”
Arethin looked from one of them to the other. “I see,” she said. “I understand. Well, in any case, I am glad you are settling in well, considering the circumstances.”
Vivienne and Dorian exchanged a strange smile.
“Indeed,” Dorian said.
“No one could be happier than us, darling.” Vivienne added.
“Oh—some woman named Ardeque came by and spoke a great deal about horses, then left,” Dorian said. “Neither of us are quite sure what that was about?”
“That's Halla-Keeper Ardeque Quansyroth,” Arethin explained. “I suppose she must think you'll stay here with your people most of the time, else she would have given you mounts right away.”
“Halla-keeper?” Vivienne raised her eyebrows.
“Like a horse-mistress,” Arethin said. “She came here with the other Dalish, and decided we weren't doing nearly a good enough job of finding mounts on our own.”
“Interesting,” Vivienne said, exchanging a look with Dorian.
“If you wish to leave Haven, she'd be happy to procure you decent mounts,” Arethin pointed out.
“We'll...speak with her on that,” Dorian said.
It was a week after Vivienne, Dorian and the loyalist mages came to Haven that a ragged group of Templars arrived as well.
They were a rather sorry lot, in battered armor, some with broken arms or other injuries. Cassandra met with their leader at once, and then brought Arethin to meet him as well.
The leader was a blond man with the greasy skin and hair as well as the shakes of a lyrium withdrawal. He was tall, dressed in somewhat patchwork Templar armor, and had sunken and exhausted eyes.
Arethin eyed him with a wary expression.
“This is Cullen Rutherford,” Cassandra said by way of introduction. “One of the Templars who defected from Elthina's ranks. He has brought these other Templars to join the effort in closing the Breach.”
Arethin looked at him, a scowl on her face. “How lovely,” she said. “Why should I care?”
“They have pledged to give their aid to the Inquisition,” Cassandra explained. Her brow was furrowed as she looked at Arethin, as if she were trying to work out a puzzle.
“How nice for them. Why have you brought him to me?” she asked.
“I dearly wished to meet you, Herald,” Cullen said, a nervous half-smile on his face. “To meet the woman who could close the Breach--!”
Arethin looked at him in revulsion. “And what do you think?” she demanded. “Did you expect a Dalish mage?”
“I—had heard that you were Dalish,” he said. “I did not want to leap to conclusions.”
She sneered at him, then turned to Cassandra. “Well, now that they are here, what do you plan to do with them?” she demanded. “Keeper Lanaya and the Dalish and dwarven forces will not like this—to say nothing of the Grand Enchanter's mages.”
“We can help,” Cullen leapt in. “I am certain your mage forces need--”
Arethin rounded on him, fury in her gaze. “Be silent,” she hissed. “I did not ask you.” she turned back to Cassandra.
Cassandra hesitated for a moment. “Lavellan—we do need their help,” she said, blinking. She frowned, as if something was puzzling to her.
“We need nothing from Templars that we cannot get from ordinary soldiers.” Arethin snarled. “Less, even—when these—people—have too many problems with their lyrium shakes--”
“You are not suggesting that we turn them away?” Cassandra asked, aghast.
“That is exactly what I am suggesting,” Arethin said. “Turn them away, or draft them into your army as soldiers.” she gave Cullen a nasty look. “Then, at least, when the shakes get too much for them, you won't feel so bad about throwing them out on their miserable ears.”
“My lady--” Cullen began. “I—I apologize for anything we might have done to offend--”
“Offend?” she turned to him, drawing herself up to her full height. “Anything you might have done to offend? Is the death of children a mere offense to you? Attacking innocent Clans, mutilating and imprisoning mages? A mere offense?”
“I don't—I didn't—” Cullen stammered, until Cassandra cut in.
“That is enough!” she snapped. “Lavellan, you tolerate Ser Barris perfectly well--”
“Ser Barris is one former Templar,” Arethin hissed. “And knew full well the crimes of the Templar Order, hence why he came to you. This...man...” she gestured to Cullen. “Is one of almost a hundred, a hundred who did not seek you out until it became very clear that Elthina was not in the right, and that hundred could very well have rapists and murderers in it. If I were you, Seeker, I would throw them out. And if you do not, then it is entirely likely the Dalish and the mages will drive them out, because no one wants to be near a pack of slavering, idiot butchers.” she took several deep breaths.
“We will...we will discuss this,” Cassandra said, her eyes flinty.
“Fine. Do as you will.”
Arethin left, and slammed the door behind her.
Several hours later, both Vivienne and Cassandra cornered Arethin, asking her to reconsider her position on the Templars.
“Why?” Arethin demanded. “You can have them here if it pleases you. Just don't expect the best of results.”
“That is precisely why we are asking you to—allow the alliance, at the very least, Lavellan,” Vivienne said with a sigh. “Your blessing would do much to mediate the arguments.”
“My blessing?” Arethin stared at them. “You would want me to welcome those scum here?”
“Why is this a problem for you?” Cassandra wanted to know. “You hardly cared if that man Blackwall was a criminal—you cared nothing for the Red Jennies--”
“Those people aren't Templars,” she hissed.
“And what, precisely, is so different about Templars?” Vivienne asked.
“They'd drown your children if they had the chance, they just don't want to because they like having mages at their beck and call,”
“Lavellan,” Cassandra was aghast.
“Don't deny it,” Arethin snapped. “It's all abominations this and that right until someone needs a healing, and then magic is just fine, isn't it?”
“You are oversimplifying the matter,” Vivienne snapped.
“They take your children!” Arethin exclaimed. “A Circle mage can't have children, can't have a family, they separate brothers and sisters—you can't even write letters to your family unless you're a noble, and even then--”
“That is for safety's sake,”
“No, it isn't!” Arethin insisted. “That's insane! What possible purpose could there be in preventing children from even writing to their parents?”
Cassandra looked downcast, ashamed.
“It's because all the Chantry has done, all the Chantry has ever wanted to do, is use mages,” Arethin snarled, clenching her fists so tightly that her knuckles were white. “They didn't have the guts to kill all of us so they put the ones they could capture into a grinder so they came out with perfect, obedient, self-hating little warriors and healers--”
“You are wrong,” Vivienne drew herself up to her full height. “You claim that your people would do so much better? Without the knowledge of the Circles, the protection that they offer?”
“They only need protection because the Chantry taught them that magic was to be feared, that everything apart from the Maker was wrong!”
“And has Tevinter done so well? You saw Alexius, saw what happened when he was left to his own devices!” Vivienne demanded. “The Dalish, the Avvar? All those who let mages run rampant--”
“How is it letting anyone run rampant to not imprison them for something they were born with?” Arethin demanded. “All elves had magic once—would you lock all of us up? Claim that we were all dangerous?”
“A quaint myth, Lavellan, one I'd hoped you would not be taken in by and in any case, has no bearing on what happens now.”
“Ah, yes, the lady from the Circle knows ever so much about elvhen history,” Arethin snapped. “Admit it. They manipulated you as readily as they did everyone else. They made you into someone obedient, someone who did everything they asked--”
“I do nothing that I do not wish to, as I am sure you well know,” Vivienne said, her eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Enough!” Cassandra held up her hands. “Lavellan, I understand your—problems—with Templars--”
“No, you don't,” Arethin insisted.
Cassnadra sighed. “Fine,” she snapped. “Then explain.”
She folded her arms, clenching her jaw in an obstinate fashion. “Haven't I said enough already?”
“Hmph,” Vivienne gave a delicate snort. “Half-formed arguments are not an explanation, my dear.”
Arethin looked her dead in the eyes. “Templars killed my son,” Arethin said, her tone utterly flat.
The room went quiet. Both Vivienne and Cassandra stood in shocked silence for an uncomfortable amount of time.
“I am...I am sorry,” Cassandra said.
“Who were these...people, who called themselves Templars?” Vivienne demanded, outraged. “They cannot be allowed to--”
“Well, they won't do anything anymore,” Arethin said, looking away from them. “They're dead. I killed every last one of them.” her lip curled with disgust at the memory.
“When was it?” Cassandra asked, shocked. “They have been—running wild for some time--”
“It was before Val Royeaux,” Arethin snapped. “They were still on the Chantry's leash. You know the law. If they find a mage, the mage must come. If the mage does not want to, they make them. If the mage fights...” her voice cracked and she bit her lip. “If he fights...they kill him.”
“Those Templars are not like these Templars, Lavellan,” Vivienne insisted.
“No?” Arethin said. “What happened to my son is just one sad story out of thousands, Vivienne, and if you deny that you are blind.”
“A tragedy cannot--”
“If it had been a mage of my Clan who killed a Templar trainee, the Templars would say they were justified in killing my whole Clan,” Arethin snarled. “Which is what they would have done if I hadn't killed them first.”
Vivienne and Cassandra looked at each other, quiet again.
Arethin ran a hand over her head. “Think about this,” she snapped, her voice cold. “They kill children. They separate families. They've killed more of my people than we can count. We can't possibly sustain their lyrium habits, and you know what withdrawals are like.”
“The Templars who have come to us aren't violent, Lavellan,” Cassandra said quietly. “I have never heard of any Templars who would do such a thing. I know there have been...accidents...”
“You're a Seeker, Cassandra!” Arethin exclaimed. “How did you not know?”
Cassandra halted, taken aback.
“Accidents,” Arethin shook her head, disgusted. “Accidents! They gored my son—a boy—with a blade, and you call that an accident!”
“I--” Cassandra faltered. “I--”
“Perhaps these ones are not child-killers,” Arethin said. “But it does not matter. We cannot know, and my people cannot trust them.”
“I will—something will be done,” Cassandra said. “Perhaps--” she sighed. “I cannot turn them away, not when we have accepted everyone else. Surely there is a place for them.”
Arethin snorted. “And you wonder why people lost faith in your Chantry?” she shook her head. “If the Chantry rebuilds the Templar order, you will lose the Dalish alliance, I promise you. And likely the Orzammar one as well.”
“I—will take that into consideration,” Cassandra sighed.
Arethin snorted. “See that you do,” she growled, and shoved past them to leave the Chantry.
Vivienne and Cassandra watched her go.
“What shall we do, Cassandra?” Vivienne asked, shaking her head.
“Maker,” Cassandra breathed. “I—I had not considered the ramifications of...” she closed her eyes. “I—I cannot believe it. I had never considered...”
“Never considered what?”
Cassandra just shook her head.
Vivienne stared at her. “Surely you were aware of the rules concerning families and children, my dear,” she said. “Templars are obligated to take mage children, and must defend themselves as well as others from magic. Some Templars cannot be trusted, and that results in tragic accidents. Many mothers would be distraught at her child being taken to the Circle at the best of times, and Lavellan's circumstances--”
“Why are you so calm?” Cassandra demanded. “Families—rent apart like that—I had always thought it was for the greater good, I had never--”
Vivienne's expression grew cold. “I see. You have never come face to face with those who were affected.” she shook her head. “Cassandra, my dear, I faced such things every day during my time overseeing Montsimmard Circle. Weeping children, terrified mothers and fathers, more letters than I can count that I could never deliver. One remembers that the sorrow of one family is little when weighed against the sorrow of many. You cannot tell me that you have never faced this before.”
Cassandra just shook her head. “I guard the Divine,” she said. “I—this—I am not accustomed to this.”
Vivienne was quiet for a long moment.
“My dear,” she said at length, her voice soft. “If you are to heal the Chantry, and the Circles, you must face what your laws do. You must understand that though the laws work to protect the many, their result will hurt many as well. If you cannot understand that, you are not fit to lead.”
Cassandra glared at her. “How can you be so callous?” she growled. “Lavellan lost her son--”
“I have heard that story a hundred times,” Vivienne's words were icy, her face as cold as the moon. “An accident. A vicious Templar who abused their power. A frail mage dying of cold, because the Templars felt she was too dangerous to care for. Babes torn from their mothers' arms. A mage made Tranquil for escaping to see his husband. Lovers, husbands, wives, separated forever. My question to you, dear Seeker, is how have you not heard that story, and a hundred others just like it?”
Cassandra stared at her. “I know—what the Circle does is for the protection of everyone--” she looked away. “I did not know how cruel it could be.” her words were soft, almost a whisper.
Vivienne shook her head. “If that is the best you can offer, Cassandra, then perhaps Lavellan was right. If you cannot face the consequences of your Order, then you cannot command them. If this is too much for you, send them away.”
Vivienne turned and left her then, heels clicking on the stone floor. The door swung shut behind her, leaving Cassandra alone.
Cassandra took a deep, shuddering breath, and went to find Cullen.
“Cullen.”
Cullen looked up at Cassandra.
“What has been decided?” he asked.
“Your people need to leave,” Cassandra said. “Go to--” she paused, and shook her head. “Caer Oswin will doubtless take you in,” she said. “But the Inquisition, cannot, in good conscious, do such a thing.”
Cullen got to his feet. “Seeker Pentaghast, I--”
“Go, Cullen.” Cassandra snapped.
“But the mages here--”
“When the Breach is closed, and order is restored, we will revisit the Templars,” Cassandra said. “For now...” she shook her head. “Too many things must be considered.”
“What possible things must be considered? There are mages here that need guarding--”
Cassandra glared at him. “You—you must know the effects of your actions,” she said. “Tell me—when you separated families from each other, how did you feel?”
“When I...what?”
“That is the law,” Cassandra said. “Mages cannot have contact with their former families. Mage children are to be taken from nonmage families, even if they are Dalish or Avvar or Vashoth. Tell me. What do you think of this?”
“Mages are—they must be watched,” Cullen stammered. “The people must be protected from magic.”
“And when people die under your care? What then?”
Cullen looked away from her. Cassandra's shoulders fell.
“What then?”
“I—I do not know what you wish me to say.”
“That you are sorry!” Cassandra burst out. “That you are sorry for what we must do! That you know the end is worth it, that--” she covered her face and took a deep breath. “Leave, Cullen,” she said. “Simply go. Do not come back. I cannot promise what the Herald will do if you return here.”
Cullen stared at her, then went to round up his Templars. Cassandra took a deep breath, staring after him.
Arethin watched the Templars leave Haven, her arms folded.
“I see their stay here has been brief,” Solas came to stand next to her.
Arethin nodded.
“I cannot pretend that is not a relief,” he said. When she didn't respond, he glanced at her. “Is something the matter?”
She shrugged. He didn't say anything, just stood quietly beside her.
“Do you have children?” Arethin asked at length..
Solas was silent for a long time, and at length he nodded. “No. Not anymore.”
She was quiet for a long moment. She closed her eyes. “So you know.”
He blinked, considering her words for a moment. “Oh...my friend,” he closed his eyes. “I do.”
She hugged herself, and Solas carefully reached out and put a delicate hand on her shoulder.
“This world is not a kind one.” he said.
“You don't have to tell me that.”
“I know there is little I can say.”
“That's true.” she sighed.
They were quiet for a long moment.
“My eldest daughter died of illness,” he said quietly. “Something I could have healed, but I could not get to her in time.”
“I could've helped if I'd gotten there sooner,” she said softly. “But I didn't. I couldn't find him soon enough.”
“Him—your child?”
Arethin nodded. “My only son. The Templars--” she cut herself off.
“Ah.”
“Have you ever run afoul of Templars?”
“No, I have tried to avoid them.”
“A wise decision. I suppose it's easier to hide as one person than as a whole Clan,” she sighed.
“Yes, I suspect that it is.”
She ran a hand down her face. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...well, I spoke too much.” she grimaced. “To Vivienne and Cassandra as well.”
“You have nothing to apologize for. They are the ones who would invite the order that killed your son into their midst.”
“Well, the Templars are leaving now, at any rate.”
“Yes.”
Cassandra came trudging up the hill. She met Arethin's eyes once and looked away.
“The Templars are leaving, I see.” Arethin said, her arms folded.
Cassandra nodded. “Yes. After what you—and Madame de Fer said...”
Arethin raised her eyebrows in surprise, and exchanged a look with Solas. “She didn't want them here either?”
“No. She did, but...” Cassandra shook her head. “I must...reevaluate my views. Both you and she have...a more complete picture of the Order than I do.”
“That is surprising, Seeker,” Solas said, and he raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised. “Your own Order is in command of the Templars, are they not?”
“They are, but...” Cassandra sighed. “It matters little. They are gone now.”
“And what will you do about them later?”
Cassandra shrugged. “I don't know. I had not realized...”
“Realized what?” Arethin asked, rolling her eyes. She hardly had the patience for Cassandra's crisis.
“Our laws are there to protect the people,” Cassandra said. “But perhaps I spent too long at the side of the Divine, steeped in—politics, and game-playing, to see the true effect our laws had.”
“A common affliction,” Solas said, and his tone was not without sympathy, though his expression was cool and neutral. “Leaders may easily become disconnected from their people. It leads to terrible consequences.”
“Yes,” Cassandra still wouldn't meet their eyes. “I know. We only wanted...”
“I don't care about what you wanted,” Arethin snapped.
Cassandra winced. “I know,” she said. “I know, that what happened to your son was not—I cannot fix it with my desires. But I--”
“Lavellan!” the three of them were interrupted when Fiona came hurrying up to them.
“What is it?” Arethin asked.
“Lavellan,” Fiona's voice was soft.
“What is it?”
“I believe...we can close the Breach. We know how best to help you.”
Arethin let out a sigh of relief.
“How?” she asked.
“You are sure?” Solas asked. “Have you spoken with the loyalist mages--?”
“Yes, of course,” Fiona nodded. “Come—both of you, I can show you what we've decided on.”