《The Sword Mage》 The Circle Tower 9:27 Dragon, Farm on the Outskirts of Highever The templar comes in the early morning. Cadeyrn sees him loiter beyond the wood fence, a pale shadow in the fog. He lets him wait. He checks the next sow as she eats; she is in good health, as are the others. The two sows at the end have a spat over the remains of the trough while the others drift off, content to rest after their meal. Wiping his hands on his trousers, Cadeyrn walks to the front of his house. He picks up the small bag of belongings he had packed the night before and makes his way to the fence gate. The templar greets him, voice muffled by the helmet. ¡°Ready to leave?¡± The templar pauses, looks around. ¡°Wait, where is your father?¡± Cadeyrn shakes his head. ¡°This is your last chance to say goodbye. Do you want to see him before we go?¡± He shakes his head again. The templar shrugs under his armor. Cadeyrn opens the gate and slips through, ignoring the intrigued grunts of the pigs. The templar nods and starts on the long road toward the town proper. They arrive at the Chantry, where more templars stand outside. ¡°This is him.¡± The templar puts a heavy hand on his shoulder. Cadeyrn wants to shrug it off, but doesn¡¯t. Instead, he observes the others. Of the three, one wears no helmet. She looks to be a weathered and stern woman, with cold eyes and heavy brows. She stares at and through him, searching for the demons which lurk within. Eventually she nods decisively. ¡°Then we depart for the Circle,¡± she declares. The templars salute. The one who brought him returns to the Chantry, while the three others guide him to a caravan. One of the templars - the shorter of the two with helmets- climbs up the back and offers him a hand, which he takes. He struggles to get his leg up, but the templar easily pulls him to the floor and to his feet. The templar takes him to a bench at the side of the caravan and motions to sit down, so he does. Cadeyrn notices the shackles on the floor and on the ribs of the caravan. The other templars climb up and sit on the opposite bench. The woman watches him unflinchingly; he looks away from her piercing stare, observes the inside of the caravan. There are tall stacks of boxes and some barrels, along with a few heavy bags of grain. He supposes they wanted to restock whilst picking up their new charge. The taller templar walks to the front of the caravan and opens the cloth flap. He mutters to the driver. The sound of reins on skin whips in the air, and the caravan rolls into motion. Cadeyrn closes his eyes. He hears the sound of roosters crowing in the air. The townsfolk are waking up; the merchants set up shop while the farmers haul in their latest crops or their livestock of the day. The smith has begun his work, the clangs of metal and iron piercing the morning ruckus. He can smell fresh bread and pies from the bakery, a welcome change from pig shit. He probably won¡¯t ever smell this again, so he savors the aroma of food he will never eat. His stomach grumbles. He had packed half a loaf of hard bread for the days¡¯ journey. He¡¯ll get to eat some in the next morning. The templars murmur amongst themselves. Their words are lost in the rising sounds of the market. Cadeyrn lets out a deep breath and sinks back further. Perhaps he should try for a nap. But the caravan slows and stops, and he opens his eyes. The tall templar leaves, the caravan rocking under the loss of his weight. He wonders if something is wrong. The remaining templars continue to watch him. He grows anxious. Worries that they see something in him. He breathes out deeply again, and sees the breath frost. It¡¯s happening again. ¡°Calm down.¡± The short templar presses a hand to his shoulder. He feels the unease filter from his body, a different kind of cold settling in his bones. A low groan escapes him as he shudders. The hand leaves, and he is left feeling tired, his body loose and limp. The tall templar returns now, carrying a small and delicious-smelling sack. Cadeyrn¡¯s mouth waters. The templar reaches in the sack and pulls out a meat pie the size of his palm and about as big as Cadeyrn¡¯s face. He holds it out to him, and Cadeyrn stares at it. ¡°Eat, child,¡± the short templar says gently. Cadeyrn glances up at the tall templar and gingerly takes it from his hand. It is hot, almost burning his fingers. The tall templar takes a seat next to the woman templar after ordering the driver to depart once more. The caravan rocks forward. Cadeyrn raises the pie to his lips, overwhelmed by the heavenly smell. He takes a bite, and another, and before he knows it the pie is gone and his hands are covered in crumbs. He blinks slowly. The warmth spreading through his body leaves him in a stupor. At some point his eyes slide shut, and then he sleeps, unaware of his departure from Highever and from the life he had once known.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. They arrive at Lake Calenhad after a week of traveling. Cadeyrn marvels at the sight of the faraway spire rising from the earth, surrounded by a web of arches and cleaving the moon. A strange mist hangs in the sky. As beautiful as the place is, it is also unsettling. When he blinks, he sometimes thinks he sees something else just before his eyes close. The templars take him into the tower after ferrying across the lake. They pass him on to a woman in robes - a mage. The mage brings him to a large room with many beds, all of them with another stacked on top, and leads him to a corner. This is where he will live from now on. He can put his belongings in one of the chests, the mage says. She tells him when and where to report for classes, where the meal room, washroom, and outhouses are, and tells him he is welcome to ask for assistance whenever he needs it. Finally, she says that First Enchanter Irving, the head mage of the tower, will want to see him and that one of the templars will escort him when he is ready. He nods yes, yes, and then he is left alone. He inspects the bed. It¡¯s better than he had expected. Cadeyrn slept on a pallet back in Highever, but this bed has an actual mattress and pillow. He pushes down on it with a hand and finds that it¡¯s surprisingly soft. He hesitantly sits down. It¡¯s nice. He gets up. He hides his bag underneath the mattress; the chests have no locks, and he refuses to leave what little he has out where anyone can take it. He exits the room, and as the mage said, a templar is waiting outside. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± the man says. They walk through the round hall and enter a gigantic library. The bookshelves are taller than houses and filled with tomes. There are long tables covered in paper and books, and chalkboards with strange and grotesque diagrams. One of the mages sets himself on fire while another shakes his head and blasts him with ice. The templar hurries past them all. They go up a set of stairs to a circular room on the second floor, then enter another hallway circling around the tower. The templar ushers him into one of the rooms at the end of the spiral. It is an office lined with bookshelves, and in the center, behind a table covered in papers, is an old man with a thick grey beard. The First Enchanter rises from his seat and greets him. ¡°So you¡¯ve arrived safely. I am glad to meet you, child.¡± The man introduces himself in a rasping voice and explains that he oversees the tower and its mages. ¡°I am certain you must have many questions. For the most part, you will learn all you must about magic and your responsibilities from the Enchanters, who will do their best to teach you the ways of the mages. If there is anything else you wish to know about the Circle, however, you are free to ask.¡± The man smiles kindly down at him. Cadeyrn hesitates but he gathers his resolve and asks, ¡°Are there animals here?¡± Irving¡¯s eyebrows rise. ¡°There are a few specimens for research and experimentation, as well as cats who chase down the rats, but otherwise no.¡± Cadeyrn¡¯s shoulders drop, and he asks another question. ¡°Can I practice swordsmanship?¡± ¡°Certainly not, child,¡± the man says sharply, but not cruelly. From behind Cadeyrn hears the rustle of the templar¡¯s armor. ¡°You are a mage apprentice, and only after years of dedicated study will you be a mage. Our powers lie not with swords, but with our minds.¡± He sighs. ¡°While I am sorry to tell you that whatever ambition you once had as a swordsman is now impossible, you should not be disheartened. Magic is a power far greater than any blade. Now that you wield it, you must train to control this power lest it destroy you as well as those around you,¡± he warns. Cadeyrn looks down at his scuffed, muddy boots, and doesn¡¯t respond. The First Enchanter sighs again. ¡°I am sorry. In time, you will come to accept the gift given to you by the Maker.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t you take it out of me?¡± he asks. Immediately he sees the rejection forming on the old man¡¯s face, so he changes his question. ¡°How about if I - if I learn to not use magic. I won¡¯t really be a mage that way, and I won¡¯t get demons, and¡­¡± He trails off as he sees the bafflement on Irving¡¯s face. ¡°Child, whatever you know about magic and what you are is unfortunately incorrect,¡± he says gently. ¡°Magic is not a tool you can drop or pick up as you please. It is a connection to the Fade. Do you know what that is?¡± Cadeyrn inhales and shakes his head. Irving motions for him to take a seat. He walks to his own chair behind the table as he explains, ¡°The Fade is another realm, an illusory and ever-changing place; it is the one we visit in our dreams. All people except the dwarves have a connection to the Fade, but in mages this connection is especially strong.¡± He sits, and continues, ¡°We are able to channel energy from that realm to this one. It is by using the Fade¡¯s energies that we may reshape this world in ways beyond true understanding. In many ways it is a blessing, but it is also a curse, for our abilities will draw the attention of the demons residing in the Fade. When a demon takes notice, it will attempt to possess the mage through temptations. If the demon succeeds, the mage becomes an abomination and must be slain by the templars.¡± Slain like pigs. An intense cold spreads in Cadeyrn¡¯s chest. He swallows roughly, clutching his arms around himself to stave off the chill. ¡°There is a way,¡± the man continues softly, ¡°for a mage to cut his connection to the Fade, but it is not the salvation you seek. You will see in the Tower a group called the Tranquil. They were apprentices who did not wish to undergo the Harrowing - the test one must pass to become a mage - or they were apprentices who were very likely to fall prey to the demons. When one becomes Tranquil, they lose their emotions, as well as all of the passion and hope that comes from being alive. It is not a terrible fate, but...¡± Cadeyrn grips himself tighter. Becoming one of those Tranquil did not seem so bad if that meant he would live free from the demons, and he tells Irving this. The man merely looks saddened. ¡°Perhaps you will think differently when you meet the Tranquil,¡± he says. ¡°Now, there is one more thing we must do before you go for supper. I must take a few drops of your blood for your phylactery.¡± He lets out a shallow grunt, no longer willing to talk. He does not know what a phylactery is but doesn¡¯t bother asking. He remains silent as the First Enchanter drops his blood into a small glass vial, and wordlessly follows the templar who leads him to the dining hall. There are dozens of mages sitting around the tables. They are all of different ages, from old and bald men to small girls younger than he. There are even knife-ears amongst the mages. He sits at the edge of a table and eats. The mages talk at him, but he does not respond. When he is done eating he stares at the table without seeing, and when the mages turn in for the night he lies on his bed and stares into the darkness. He digs underneath his mattress and pulls out his mother¡¯s amulet, clutching it hard in his fist until the shadows creep over his eyes and drag him deep, deep, into the den of demons. The Tranquil Cadeyrn wakes in the early hours of the morning, before any of the others have risen. He leaves for the washroom and rinses himself, undoing his braid and washing the dirt and dust from his hair. With his hair still dripping, he redresses and exits. In the torch-lit hall, he wanders about until he reaches the gigantic library. He stares up at the ceiling, marveling at the intricate patterns carved into the stone. Then he approaches one of the bookshelves, runs his hands over the spines of the books. He pulls one out and flips through it idly before stowing it back into its place and picking out another. He continues until he finds one with pictures, and then he sits on the floor, tracing the drawings with his finger. There are lots of different and pretty circles, with lines and dots running through them. One of the drawings shows a mage casting magic while standing on one of the circles, and another shows a monster being blown back after trying to step on a different circle. So taken by the book was he that before long, light begins to pour through the arched windows and people enter the library. Cadeyrn flinches at the sound of an explosion, the book dropping from his lap. He looks around and sees mages scattered throughout the room, some of them practicing magic, others scribbling away at the tables. He quietly puts the book down and moves between the bookshelves. In the next section of the library he sees a red-haired woman mage and a pair of children. The boy and girl look younger than he by a few years. They are both fair-haired and pale. He approaches the group. The mage notices him and beckons. ¡°So you¡¯ve arrived at last,¡± she says. ¡°Cadeyrn Cledd, yes? Newest mage apprentice to the Circle?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a weird name,¡± the boy whispers to the girl, who giggles. ¡°All right, let¡¯s get started with today¡¯s lesson. Now, the Chantry teaches us that magic is meant to serve man, and never to rule over him¡­¡± The mage lectures on the history of magic and something called darkspawn, telling them how the ¡®folly of the Tevinter magisters¡¯ lead to the corruption of a place called ¡®the Golden City¡¯, and how they came back as monsters. She says that after, people stopped believing in ¡®Old Gods¡¯ and instead followed Andraste, and after she died the Chantry locked up all of the mages. It is an interesting lecture, though Cadeyrn doesn¡¯t understand why she isn¡¯t teaching them how to wield magic and defend themselves from demons. She wraps up with a lesson on how to behave in the library and how to treat the books with care and respect, as many of them are decades older than any of them. The Enchanter makes it clear that mistreating any of the books would end very, very badly. When the mage dismisses them with instructions to study from a history book, he waits until the children have gone before questioning her about the use of learning history. ¡°It is essential to know the roots of our powers,¡± she states primly. ¡°You must learn the dangers and know the consequences of your powers before you can be allowed to use them.¡± ¡°And learning ¡®bout what some other folk did a long time ago will teach that?¡± ¡°Cledd, if you do not understand this, you must surely study more! Here, I will give you a book of the basics. This will help you catch up to your peers.¡± She walks to a bookshelf and pulls out a thick tome. She passes it to him, and he grunts as he takes the heavy book. ¡°It is unfortunate that you came here late in your childhood. I understand that it is more difficult to adjust the older you are, but that is what you must learn to do.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± She holds up a hand. ¡°Read. The next class is tomorrow morning, and I expect you on time. Good day, Cledd.¡± Then she leaves. Cadeyrn looks down at the heavy book. He sighs deeply. He misses the pigs and the sows, their comforting and wordless companionship. They never expected anything from him that he could not give. There is no point to dwelling on what he has lost, however, so he drags himself out of the library and into the hall. He finds an isolated corner hidden behind one of the decorative walls, the kind that are stone arch windows filled by wrought iron, woven like vines. He traces the thick cover of the book. He knows that the first word of the title is ¡°The¡±. The next word begins with an H, then an I. Then there is a squiggly snake letter. He traces its shape with his finger, tries to think of what it is, and eventually remembers that it is an S. ¡°The¡­ His-to-ry,¡± he mumbles. ¡°Of,¡± he says, tracing the long twig-like letter after the O. ¡°M¡­ A¡­¡± He struggles with the next letter. The two letters after it are E and S. ¡°M-A¡­ E-S,¡± he mutters, squinting. He huffs. ¡°Mages,¡± he guesses. He still doesn¡¯t know what the missing letter is, but he is sure that the strange circle with loops like curled hair must be part of the word ¡®mages¡¯. He reads the full title aloud: ¡°The History of Mages.¡± Cadeyrn flips despondently through the book, which has a side thicker than his arm. It will take him a very, very long time to read this. He will probably be as old as First Enchanter Irving. But there is another way. He drops the book and hurries upstairs. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. The First Enchanter isn¡¯t in his office. At least, he thinks so. The door is closed and locked, and no one answers when he knocks. Cadeyrn walks back through the hall. A templar asks if he is lost, and he says no. He ends up standing in the large circular room where the staircase to the first floor is. He doesn¡¯t want to go back and try to read. Irving had said that the Tranquil live in the tower with all the rest; perhaps he should try and find one? He looks around and sees a group of mages storing and moving supplies in a walled-off section of the room, so he walks up to the mage standing by the entrance. ¡°Welcome to the Circle¡¯s stockroom of magical items,¡± the man says in a lilting yet emotionless voice. ¡°My name is Owain. How may I assist you?¡± ¡°Do you know where the Tranquil are?¡± He asks, watching a bald woman pull several flasks of toxic-looking liquid from a box. ¡°Yes. I am one of the Tranquil. So are the others behind me in the stockroom. How may I assist you?¡± Cadeyrn blinks in surprise. ¡°You¡¯re really a Tranquil mage?¡± The man explains, ¡°I voluntarily submitted to the Rite of Tranquility. I was unwilling to undergo the Harrowing.¡± Just as blankly as before he remarks, ¡°I find this state agreeable.¡± Everything the man says is neutral, almost calming. Cadeyrn finds himself relaxing as he asks, ¡°What¡¯s a Harrowing? And the Rite of Tranquility?¡± They sound familiar, and he thinks Irving had told him yesterday, but he can¡¯t quite remember. With seemingly endless patience, the man answers. ¡°The Harrowing is a test all apprentices must take in order to be recognized as mages. Those who do not wish to or cannot undergo the Harrowing must submit to the Rite of Tranquility to be made tranquil. We are different from mages.¡± Cadeyrn isn¡¯t sure what to make of this. ¡°What do you mean? You look like anyone else.¡± He remembers what Irving said. ¡°Not¡­ having emotions?¡± ¡°Yes. I remember the days when my mind was filled with inconvenient and seething emotions. Now things are simple.¡± Simple. That sounds¡­ nice. ¡°What was it like to become a Tranquil?¡± he questions, curious. ¡°It is difficult to describe. I would perhaps compare it to being plunged into a pool of ice-cold water.¡± This takes him aback. ¡°That seems terrible,¡± he admits quietly. He doesn¡¯t understand. How could anyone willingly give themselves to the ice? To live that way? ¡°It¡¯s like you¡¯re not even human.¡± But Owain does not think so. ¡°My body is similar to yours, possessing an equal number of limbs, appendages, and internal organs. I perform the same physical functions. My mind is capable of higher thought processes. Am I to be denied personhood because I do not feel as you do?¡± Cadeyrn quickly shakes his head. That isn¡¯t what he means. ¡°You are a person. It¡¯s just¡­¡± He huffs, trying to think of a way to shape his thoughts. In the end he asks, ¡°Just, what do they do to you to make you tranquil?¡± ¡°I was ordered to never speak of it. I cannot go against the Circle¡¯s wishes.¡± ¡°You¡­ cannot?¡± Something about that does not sound right. ¡°Or will not?¡± ¡°I belong to the Circle. I cannot go against the Circle, and I do not wish to.¡± ¡°Because you like the Circle?¡± he asks, unnerved. ¡°I do not have the capacity to feel like or dislike.¡± Something splinters in Cadeyrn¡¯s mind. He shakes his head and asks a final question. ¡°But even if¡­¡± he begins. ¡°Even if someone you used to hate came up to you one day and - and threatened someone you love, to kill them, you wouldn¡¯t feel a thing? Would you do anything?¡± ¡°I do not feel hate or love,¡± Owain says, as plainly as if he were reciting a recipe for making barley stew. ¡°Circle protocol states that the tranquil must inform the nearest Enchanter or templar of any threat to the Circle. I would therefore inform the nearest Enchanter or templar if the situation requires intervention.¡± Cadeyrn simply stands there, speechless for a moment. Even dogs can go against their masters. Who were these people, to live forever in the ice, to not feel and not consider their best interests for themselves? To simply live and exist with no will other than what they have been told to do? He could not bear to live this way, with his heart frozen. He doesn¡¯t comprehend exactly why, but he feels a great fear for these people. And most of all, he feels terrified by whatever forces could have made them this way. ¡°I see,¡± he says, feeling cold. He thanks Owain for his time and turns to leave. In his haste he accidentally runs into Irving, who grunts as Cadeyrn rams his head into the old man¡¯s diaphragm. Cadeyrn steps back, apologizing profusely. ¡°It¡¯s fine, my boy,¡± the First Enchanter rasps. ¡°Though I must say I am surprised to see you in the Senior Mages¡¯ Quarters. Were you looking for me, perhaps?¡± Cadeyrn¡¯s shoulders droop and he nods, not feeling much up to talking anymore. Irving¡¯s gaze wanders towards the stockroom. ¡°Have you met the tranquil? I recall you said you wished to become one yourself, correct?¡± Appalled at the prospect, Cadeyrn shakes his head vigorously. ¡°I¡­ met Owain,¡± he says. ¡°And afterward you changed your mind?¡± Irving asks, leading him away from the stockroom. Cadeyrn nods, not looking up from the ground. ¡°Why would someone do that to them?¡± he asks, voice fragile. Irving sighs, long and tired. ¡°Some consider it a better fate than being possessed by a demon and becoming an abomination. Indeed, there are always a few apprentices who choose to undergo the Rite of Tranquility for fear of being possessed. Others, however¡­¡± The man trails off. Cadeyrn glances up at him, seeing the regretful expression on the man¡¯s face. ¡°Others we feared would not withstand the Harrowing, and so we chose it for them. The apprentices who were weak at heart and would easily succumb to the demons¡¯ temptations, and those whose magical abilities had been undeveloped for so long that we feared they might one day be overpowered¡­ It is a difficult decision but, as you can see, they are content with their lives now. They no longer live in fear of the darkness from the Fade.¡± Cadeyrn swallows, unable to speak. The First Enchanter sighs again. ¡°I am afraid this conversation might have been too much for one so new to the Circle as you, child. You will not have to worry about these matters for years yet, I am sure. Forgive me for rambling on so; now, if you¡¯ll excuse me, I must return to my office. Good day, Cadeyrn.¡± The man leaves as Cadeyrn processes what he has just learned. The mages turn all of the weak ones into Tranquil. They turn them into emotionless slaves who exist to serve the Circle, even if they didn¡¯t choose it, just because they weren¡¯t strong enough. But if they don¡¯t - if the weak mages aren¡¯t turned tranquil, then they become possessed by demons. They become monsters. He returns to the corner where the thick book remains abandoned and begins to read, stumbling through the mess of letters. The Maleficar There are things lurking in the dark. We know what you did, they whisper. He closes his eyes and pulls the blanket up to his head, wishing that they would go away. Cadeyrn sits on his bed with the book on his lap. The morning sunlight pours through the tall arched windows. The other apprentices mill about, some of them readying for class, others relaxing. Several groups of them stand together loosely, gossiping. The apprentice who sleeps on the bed above him is still asleep. Cadeyrn practices reading. He fumbles with all of the letters, unsure which ones are which, sometimes forgetting the differences between b and p and q and d. It is frustrating to be this useless at something, and he wants to hurl the book out the window. ¡°He doesn¡¯t even know how to read,¡± he hears from a short while away, hushed. He resists the urge to look at whoever said that, instead trying to focus on the book. But as another person joins in, he finds himself helplessly caught on their conversation. ¡°And he¡¯s older than us, too! Must be stupid. He must¡¯ve come from a farm or something.¡± ¡°I¡¯m from a farm!¡± another boy interjects. ¡°Oh, well that explains everything.¡± ¡°No way. I¡¯m not as bad as he is.¡± The air rushes out of him. They¡¯re the stupid ones, wasting time like that. Even so, shame floods his cheeks. His hands shake as he jostles the book up to cover his face. He should just ignore them. They¡¯re nothing but pigs - no, they¡¯re worse than pigs. He¡¯ll just have to suffer living with them until the time comes for their slaughter, he thinks viciously. No. That¡¯s not right. Until the time comes when he¡­ doesn¡¯t need to be around them anymore. He curls back against the wall, hoping no one notices the trail of frost melting around the other apprentices¡¯ feet. In today¡¯s class, the Enchanter continues her lecture on history. She asks questions which the other children know the answers to, but Cadeyrn does not. She berates him for not having studied, and he wants to scream. He stays silent, not meeting her gaze and ignoring the snickers of the other apprentices. Other classes are still in session by the time she lets them go. The children run off to play while Cadeyrn treads slowly. Instead of heading back to the rooms he walks through the rest of the library, quietly observing the other classes. The rest of them are all older apprentices, some of them sitting at desks and writing furiously while others practice magic in one-on-one sessions with Enchanters. At the end of the library is tall arch door, opened to reveal a circular room surrounded by bookcases. This is the room which leads up to the second floor, but it seems to also be used for classes. In the center is a small platform with four books left open on stands, as well as an apprentice dueling an Enchanter. Cadeyrn inches behind a pillar as he watches the girl hurl a ball of lightning at the Enchanter¡¯s magic shield. The other apprentices gasp as the shield flickers and bursts. The Enchanter looks alarmed, his eyebrows jumping up, and raises another shield - but not before being singed. ¡°She really is a prodigy,¡± someone says. A murmur of agreement rises. The Enchanter yells, ¡°No Neria, no fire!¡± ¡°Oh shit,¡± someone hisses, and suddenly a swarm of people rush out of the room. Cadeyrn flattens against the pillar, wide-eyed. A second later a loud boom erupts from the room, a wave of heat scalding him. ¡°The books!¡± the Enchanter cries. ¡°Neria, stop, please!¡± Cadeyrn peeks into the room and sees a rain of fire. Survival instinct kicking in, he sucks in a breath and runs away as fast as he can. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. The next morning he sneaks into the circular room at the end of the library. He¡¯s surprised to find the bookshelves are entirely intact. The only scorch marks are on the center of the ceiling, great black smears fanning out like a shadow of the sun. He holds his hand up, imitating what he had seen the woman do before calling down the rain of fire. He wonders if he could do something like that, wonders if he could burn away the world with flame. But no, he shouldn¡¯t. He doesn¡¯t think he wants that kind of magic, not really. Fire is uncontrollable, impulsive. It would burn him away. He wonders what kind of magic he might learn, then. He recalls the book with pictures he found when he first came to the Circle and leaves the room to find it. It¡¯s a fruitless search, however, and once he sees his classmates enter the library he gives up and heads to class. It runs longer than usual today. When it¡¯s over, he goes to the circular room again to watch the class, but it¡¯s empty save for one apprentice. Cadeyrn¡¯s shoulders droop and he drifts away to the front of the library, intent on finding that magic book with pictures. Hours pass and he still hasn¡¯t found it. The stragglers in the library leave all at once for supper. Cadeyrn doesn¡¯t go with them, used to skipping a meal every now and then. He continues his search, sure that he had found the book here. He frowns, trying to remember where he¡¯d put it back after classes started. Did he not put it on the shelf? He bends down to peek underneath the bookshelves and sees a tome in the empty space near the walls. There! He searches for a gap between the shelves and squeezes through, triumphantly picking up the book. He dusts it off and holds it to his chest. Maybe if he learns how to read better he can understand this book and the magic circles it shows in the pictures. He takes the time to flip through the tome, trying to pick out a few words here and there, but mostly focusing on the drawings. A while passes as he sits and enjoys the images. Tired but happy, he makes his way towards the gap in the shelves. When he reaches it he freezes. Beyond the gap he sees an apprentice standing in front of a magic circle, different from the ones in the book. It is dark red and the lines are jagged like wounds on the stone. Smoke curls up within the circle, gathering and darkening until it forms a tall and menacing monster of the shadows. A demon. The apprentice motions as if talking, but Cadeyrn is too far away to understand the soft murmurs, and he definitely will not get any closer. He steps back from the gap. He needs to get out of here. He casts his gaze to the side and sees that he¡¯s boxed in by walls and bookcases. But, maybe, if he can push one of the shelves at the end to the side, he could get through to the stairs to the second floor and get help. Heart beating, he puts down the book and moves quietly. He presses a hand to the back of the bookcase experimentally. It¡¯s sturdy. He¡¯s not sure he could move it even if he shoved it with all his strength. Biting his lip, he wonders if maybe he should wait instead. He should at least try, though. Cadeyrn gives the bookcase a push. It doesn¡¯t budge. He grips a corner and leans against it, trying to turn the bookcase. But he slips, and the bookcase rocks forward slightly; not enough to shift, but enough to knock a few books to the floor. They fall with deafening thuds. There is silence. Cold sweat pricks his skin as he scrambles back to the wall. He hears slow, deliberate footsteps to the arched doorway leading to the library¡¯s circular room, right next to where Cadeyrn stands. The apprentice¡¯s breaths are violently loud. Cadeyrn watches the apprentice¡¯s boots come closer. He watches a book disappear from the floor as the apprentice picks it up, its cover scraping against the stone. The apprentice shifts on his feet as he kneels and looks under the bookcase. ¡°Little rat,¡± the apprentice curses. His heart exploding with fear, Cadeyrn stumbles away, trips on the tome he left on the ground. He falls to the ground. The apprentice shoves at the bookcase. It barely budges. ¡°Blasted-¡± He disappears from Cadeyrn¡¯s view, boots shuffling on the stone. Breathing harshly, Cadeyrn attempts to rise. His limbs shake like twigs in a storm, and he brings himself to an unsteady crouch backed against the wall. Fervent, crazed mutters issue from beyond the bookcases. ¡°-my servant. Kill him!¡± A languid, eerie laugh slinks through the room. Cadeyrn¡¯s limbs shudder, nearly giving out again. ¡°Ignorant fool,¡± a voice as slow and dark as molasses drips into Cadeyrn¡¯s ears. The sound invades him, reaches into the coldest and furthest dredges of his soul. ¡°A wretch like you could never control a demon.¡± A pressure descends on the room with the smell of heavy smoke. ¡°What - no - stay back, stay -¡± Cries and screams rip from the apprentice¡¯s throat. Cadeyrn shivers, suddenly cold, and grips his fist tightly. He stands and shoves his hand at the bookcase; ice webs across its back and shoves it forward, giving Cadeyrn enough room to slip through. A low hiss sounds behind him. Cadeyrn doesn¡¯t look back. He runs through the circular room and up the staircase, throwing himself at the door that leads to the second floor. Cadeyrn tumbles into the hallway and screams. In the days following, the templars tighten their guard. The Enchanters give them a new pair of rules: no unsupervised study, and no wandering after dark. Two templars take up station outside the dormitories at night, and many more patrol the halls at all times of day. The apprentice mages muttered rumors quietly amongst themselves. They had all been in the supper hall, and did not witness when Cadeyrn had screamed and caught the attention of the templar guards. They did not see the templars draw their swords and strike down the twisted, corrupted body of their fellow; they did not know the specifics of what had happened on that day. But they looked at the absence of the apprentice who had been slated for Tranquility, and the constant patrols of their templar wardens, and shared whispers about the Incident. Cadeyrn remained silent. He told as much as was necessary to First Enchanter Irving and a stern, intimidating templar called Knight-Commander Greagoir, and then slipped into the background. He listened, quietly, as the apprentices tittered and grieved over the one who had become a Maleficar. ¡°They¡¯re all just waiting to kill us,¡± someone murmurs in the shadows of the cots. ¡°Waiting to kill us all, just like they did Erik.¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s stupid. It¡¯s just¡­ he made a mistake. Don¡¯t think about it. Just don¡¯t think about it.¡± Cadeyrn slips shut his eyes. He dreams of his mother and her favorite sow, and her squeals when father butchered her for market. The Templar There is little for Cadeyrn to do at the Circle. He has no task other than to read, and all the mages and apprentices seem to do is practice or research or gossip. He doesn¡¯t like the mages. They¡¯re all so¡­ different. Some are too friendly, some too cruel. During mealtimes he prefers to sit with the ones who ignore him. The few children he meets are all younger and irritating. He keeps to himself, and slowly learns to read. Cadeyrn knows that he should ask the Enchanter for help, but he doesn¡¯t like her, either. She thinks him lazy and unmotivated, which is fair enough. He still does not understand why history matters. He does not need to know about where swords were first made centuries ago in order to use them. It feels a waste of time, but apparently time is something he has plenty of to waste. Days pass. He finds himself waking earlier and earlier in the morning; he sleeps early, too, and so by the time the moon is high in the sky he wakes fully rested. He has gotten in the habit of sneaking out when he wakes up. The templars stationed outside the dormitories go on short breaks every other hour. He dashes out of the room when they leave and makes his way through the library to the circular classroom with the staircase leading to the Senior Mage Quarters. He then curls up with his book underneath a torch and behind one of the bookcases lined tightly around the room. It was a nice, private place where no one noticed him, hidden as he was. What he really liked was that after a few hours he could eavesdrop on the magic lessons meant for older apprentices, at least until he had to leave for his own history lessons. It seems, however, that he has been waking too early. Today the halls are half silver with moonlight. He continues his routine of dodging the templars and heading to the circular room. He settles into his spot, cracks open his book, and reads. He¡¯s already made his way through most of the first page, now. He has to skip over some words, but he thinks that the first page is about different types of mages in Thedas. It talks of elves and people and witches. Cadeyrn traces the unknown letters with his fingers, reads the words he does know aloud. He¡¯s stuck on one of the words, though, and it keeps appearing over and over. He groans and rereads the page from the beginning, hoping it will make more sense after. ¡°No one knows who first dis-co-er-ed magic,¡± he reads slowly, tongue tripping over unfamiliar words, ¡°but it has been a part of the world of Thedas for as¡­ long as people can remember.¡± He continues, ¡°From the elf-es to the mages of¡­ something, both humans and elf-es have been known to, um¡­¡± A door bangs open. Cadeyrn drops the book with a thud, his heart pounding. A templar moves from behind the bookcases, armor clinking, and booms, ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± Cadeyrn shrinks into himself, hoping he won¡¯t notice, but it¡¯s futile. The templar rounds the bookcases and sees him. The templar sighs in his helmet. ¡°A child. It¡¯s past curfew for apprentices. You should be in bed. What are you doing back here? Reading naughty books?¡± he asks, noticing the tome lying on the floor. ¡°No,¡± Cadeyrn defends vehemently. ¡°Reading illegal books then?¡± the templar asks, severe. He picks up the book. ¡°The History of Mages?¡± Flipping through the pages, the man hums, unimpressed. Eventually the man sighs and closes the book. ¡°Okay,¡± he says. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± ¡°History.¡± ¡°I see that,¡± the templar remarks patiently. ¡°But why are you reading it at the dead of night instead of sleeping? Did you have a bad dream?¡± ¡°I just woke up early,¡± Cadeyrn explains, hugging his knees. ¡°At midnight?¡± the templar asks dubiously. ¡°I went to bed right after supper.¡± The man crouches and holds the book out to Cadeyrn, who doesn¡¯t reach for it. The templar puts the book on the floor instead. ¡°Well, if you can¡¯t go to sleep, go back to the apprentice rooms and read in there. You can¡¯t be out here at night.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t read in there. It¡¯s dark,¡± he mutters. The templar drags an armored hand over his helmet. ¡°I am sure they won¡¯t mind if you light a candle or two. Just go read in your room.¡± Cadeyrn knows that he shouldn¡¯t argue, but he really does not want to read where the others would watch him and laugh at him. He doesn¡¯t mind being bad - he can¡¯t help it - but it stings all the same when he hears the snickers. Biting his lip, he makes no effort to pick up the book or move away.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°I will move you by force if I must,¡± the templar warns. Cadeyrn¡¯s hands tighten on his sleeves, and he ducks his head. ¡°Oh, Maker,¡± the templar mutters to himself. ¡°All right,¡± he continues at normal volume. ¡°Why are you being so stubborn, little mage? Is there a reason you¡¯re so set on staying here?¡± He hesitates, but nods jerkily. Noticing that the templar waits for an explanation, he mumbles, ¡°It¡¯s quiet. And I¡¯m alone. No one bothers me and no one¡­¡± ¡°No one?¡± the templar repeats. Cadeyrn finishes softly, ¡°No one laughs at me.¡± ¡°Why would they laugh at you?¡± He exhales harshly. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to read. The others think it¡¯s funny.¡± The templar pauses, then says, ¡°Well, they¡¯re terrible. There¡¯s no shame in learning, especially when you¡¯re actually trying.¡± ¡°I know,¡± he mutters stormily. The templar remains silent. Cadeyrn fidgets with a loose thread in his sleeve, not looking at him or the book. He hopes that he won¡¯t be forced back to bed. He hates being stuck in there, with all the snoring. ¡°What¡¯s your name, little mage?¡± the templar asks suddenly. Cadeyrn glances at him, but doesn¡¯t answer. The templar sighs as if thinking this insufferable child and takes off his helmet. He looks¡­ young. Brown curls hang around his square face, and his eyes are large and light-colored. He looks like a knight from a story, and Cadeyrn is quietly envious. ¡°Let¡¯s start over. Hello, my name is Aedelric Welford, but I go by Dell.¡± He holds out his armored hand. ¡°May I ask what your name is?¡± Cadeyrn stares at him, unmoving. The templar waits it out, his expression remaining open and calm and his gaze never leaving Cadeyrn¡¯s. After a minute of this he breaks. ¡°I¡¯m Cadeyrn. Cadeyrn Cledd.¡± The templar grins. ¡°Well then, nice to meet you, Cadeyrn.¡± He puts his helmet back on and stands up. ¡°Now, my job is to guard the door to the Senior Mage Quarters, make sure no funny business is going on, especially after the¡­ incident. I¡¯ll be standing right by the stairs. If there happens to be an apprentice reading behind the bookshelves over here, well, I couldn¡¯t have known, because he was very quiet,¡± the templar stage-whispers the last few words. ¡°All right?¡± Cadeyrn blinks up at him, and nods. ¡°Good.¡± The man makes his way back around the bookcases, but then pauses. ¡°Oh, and one more thing. Just talking to myself here, but I find people who put their best effort into learning to be very admirable, even if they mess up. So if there were someone like that around here, they wouldn¡¯t have to worry about me laughing at them.¡± ¡°You¡¯re talking weird,¡± Cadeyrn says. ¡°No, I meant - never mind,¡± the templar cut off. ¡°Just go read and keep quiet if someone else comes around.¡± So he does. He reads until the sun rose in the sky and moonlight turned to daylight. True to his word, not once does the templar snicker at Cadeyrn¡¯s stumbling tongue. The next morning-late-evening when the templar ducks his head behind the bookcase, he sighs when he sees Cadeyrn, but doesn¡¯t tell him to go. It¡¯s a victory. Cadeyrn finds that he doesn¡¯t mind the templar¡¯s company, especially since he never bothers Cadeyrn other than a hissed ¡°Quiet¡± when another templar approaches. Sometimes, when the sun rises and Dell leaves, he finds that he misses it. So life continues. Weeks pass, and Cadeyrn still doesn¡¯t understand the point of the history lessons, but at least he¡¯s getting better at reading. The Enchanter likes to talk about things and places he has never heard of, but he thinks those are explained in the book she gave him. For example, the Tevinter Imperium she always mentions when talking of mage-isters and darkspawn is the same Tevinter with mages who rule like kings. He only found this out after asking Dell what the strange long word in the book was was, on a day where he had been particularly frustrated and desperate. Dell had told him that he should be asking the Enchanter for help, but he explained what the Tevinter was anyway, and he was better at it, too. So after a while, when he was sure there weren¡¯t any other templars around, Cadeyrn would move to sit at the side of the staircase and ask Dell to read out and explain some words for him. The templar did so hesitantly, but never refused. Cadeyrn can proudly say that he knows all of the letters of the alphabet now, even the strange cross-sticks like Z and X. He learns how to write, too, after the templar brings him a journal and a pencil. He practices writing down some of the words the Enchanter says during the lessons, secretly at first, but then she caught him one day. She had looked oddly pleased, though, so he didn¡¯t bother hiding from then on. He feels for the first time since arriving at the Tower a sense of capability. He might not be particularly good at anything here, but he is getting better at reading, at least. If he keeps trying, he might even become decent. He still aches to wield a sword, to feel its reassuring weight as he swings, but he thinks if he could learn how to properly use magic it wouldn¡¯t be as bad. That won¡¯t be for a long time, however; the Enchanter made it clear that they won¡¯t start magic lessons until the history is completely and fully explored. He wishes there were a way he could be a skilled swordsman and a skilled mage, so that he wouldn¡¯t be stuck with this unfulfilled ache to do more in his chest. The only swords in the Circle Tower belong to the templars. Cadeyrn would even settle for a sword-like stick, but when he asks Owain for something like that the Tranquil docilely tells him that only mages with the permission of a Senior Enchanter can take things from the Circle¡¯s stockroom. Cadeyrn leaves disappointed and bitter. That night, he finds it difficult to concentrate on reading. He fidgets, turns pages when the letters blur and jump around, then finally drops the book and gets up. He walks behind the bookshelves toward the side of the staircase, and asks Dell if he can practice swinging his sword. ¡°What? No,¡± the templar immediately rejects, sounding bewildered. Cadeyrn scowls down at the ground, scuffing his boot against the stone. ¡°Listen, I absolutely can¡¯t let an apprentice run around with a sword for fun. It¡¯s dangerous, and it could get me in serious trouble. More than I would already be just for letting you be here right now.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± he grumbles, and storms back to his book. He struggles through the next few paragraphs, learning about how after the prophet Andraste rebelled against the Tevinter Imperium and died, the Chantry was made and later banned magic. All the mages had to live in the Chantry and couldn¡¯t do anything except light candles and clean. It frustrates him. They have all this power, enough to rule almost all of Thedas, but they¡¯re not allowed to do anything with it. Why couldn¡¯t they let the mages do something else instead of magic then? Why are they stuck being worthless, useless? He buries his face in his knees. He hates this. He really hates this. No one needs him and he can¡¯t do anything. He¡¯s never going to be a proper mage, or a swordsman, because he¡¯s too stupid and weak, and they¡¯ll make him tranquil and take even himself from him. He¡¯s locked up in here because the Chantry hates him, and the world hates him, and his mother and father - The only things that want him are the demons. He hates everything. The Prodigy After supper that day, Cadeyrn doesn¡¯t immediately drop off to sleep. Instead, he lugs out the history book and reads on his bed. He¡¯s already almost a quarter of the way through, and it has only been a couple of months since he started. He recognizes half of the words now, too, and can usually figure out the rest when he says them aloud enough times. He remembers what Dell had said - that he has nothing to be ashamed of - and decides that if someone laughs at him, it won¡¯t bother him at all. The other apprentices ignore him, thankfully. The pair nearest to him are loud, though. They are both adults, one of them lounging on her bed while the other stands hunched and jittery by the bedpost. ¡°Jowan, stop worrying. You did fine on the test, I¡¯m sure. You didn¡¯t accidentally blow anything up this time! Isn¡¯t that a success?¡± ¡°The test was to blow something up, Neria!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t nag over the details, it¡¯s unattractive.¡± The apprentice named Jowan drops his face in between his hands. Neria stretches leisurely on the bed. Cadeyrn remembers her, his heart jumping. She was the prodigy that blasted the index room with fire a while back. She doesn¡¯t look much like a powerful mage, though, lounging around as she is. She makes another quip, to which Jowan groans. They go back and forth like this, and while the exchange is funny, it¡¯s not of much interest. Cadeyrn goes back to reading, mumbling along as he figures out the words. After a short while he hears the Jowan apprentice hiss something in an alarmed tone, so he looks up. Neria towers over him, fingers stretched out like claws. He blinks placidly. The older apprentice pouts, lowering her arms. ¡°Well, that¡¯s no fun. I expected you to jump up and flail like a scared little girl. Jowan did.¡± Said man groans in the background. ¡°So what¡¯re you up to? Reading a bedtime story?¡± Neria clambers into his bed, making Cadeyrn shift to the side to avoid being squished. ¡°The History of Mages? Seriously? Are you reading this for fun?¡± Cadeyrn glares and scowls at the nosy woman invading his space, any sort of admiration for her because of her powers fading. ¡°No.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s assigned reading. You poor slob. Don¡¯t know why they bother ¡®teaching¡¯ you this stuff, Maker knows I never remembered any of it,¡± the woman says breezily, flipping through the pages without reading any of them. Jowan speaks up behind her. ¡°To be honest, me neither.¡± ¡°You see, at your age they should be teaching you how to set things on fire. At the rate they¡¯re going, by the time you¡¯re as old as we are they¡¯ll ask you to make a fireball and you¡¯ll just set your own robes aflame. Like Eadric, this morning?¡± Neria barks out a laugh. ¡°Ha! Hilarious.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Cadeyrn says flatly. ¡°I suppose you don¡¯t really get a choice, do you,¡± the woman muses. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the newest one, right? Just came here a few months ago?¡± Cadeyrn glares and doesn¡¯t answer. Jowan pipes up, ¡°He is,¡± and Neria nods. ¡°Mhm,¡± she hums, looking him over critically. She sweeps back her black bobbed hair, and Cadeyrn is surprised to see that her ears are pointed. She¡¯s an elf. ¡°Surprised?¡± she asks wryly, noticing his gaze. ¡°Yeah, I hear that out of the Circle we elves are at the bottom of the barrel. All ¡®Yes master, of course master, please don¡¯t whip me, master¡¯. You¡¯re not going to find that here, kid. All us mages are measured by power, and me?¡± She grins sharply. ¡°I am pretty Maker-damned powerful. If I do say so myself, of course,¡± she adds flippantly. ¡°She is,¡± Jowan chimes. Neria preens. Cadeyrn just stares blankly at her. ¡°Oh, you just don¡¯t react to anything, do you?¡± Neria ruffles his hair, and he scowls. ¡°There we go. Cute, like a sour nug.¡± ¡°Leave me alone,¡± he grumbles. Neria coos, ¡°Aww, the wittle appwentice wants to be weft awone. Like he has been for the past three months. No wonder you have no friends, with that sparkling personality.¡± ¡°I have friends,¡± he immediately defends, but then thinks, pig shit. ¡°Oh really,¡± the woman drawls, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Yes,¡± he says vehemently. Dell counts as a friend, right? The templar does help him, and he¡¯s spent a lot of time with him now. They could be friends, even if he refused to let Cadeyrn use his sword. He frowns at the memory. The elf doesn¡¯t seem convinced. ¡°Uh huh. Silly me, of course you do. How could I not have noticed what a social butterfly you are, what with how you¡¯re always asleep or with your nose stuffed in a book behind the bookshelves.¡± Cadeyrn flinches and looks at her incredulously. ¡°Oh, sorry, was that supposed to be a secret?¡± she asks blithely, resting her chin on the palm of her hand.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Neria,¡± Jowan interrupts. ¡°We¡¯re supposed to be meeting Enchanter Oren now.¡± She groans and collapses on the bed. ¡°No no, let¡¯s not and say we did.¡± ¡°Neria!¡± the other apprentice whines. ¡°Fine.¡± She gets up and makes to leave, but not before tweaking Cadeyrn¡¯s nose. ¡°Catch you later, sunshine.¡± He scowls after her, rubbing his sore nose. He hates the other apprentices. All of them. Especially her. Cadeyrn arrives at the ritual room at dawn, just as Dell is about to leave. ¡°Oh.¡± The templar shifts in his armor. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were coming. Slept late, did you?¡± Cadeyrn shrugs. ¡°I read in my room last night,¡± he admits, shuffling his feet. He doesn¡¯t bother going behind the bookcase since people will start arriving in less than an hour. ¡°Ah. And how was it? Did anyone¡­?¡± He scowls, remembering the elf woman. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay,¡± the templar says in a rush, waving his hands around. ¡°You¡¯re welcome to read here. Well, not technically, but. You get the idea.¡± Cadeyrn¡¯s scowl fades, and he nods. ¡°Thanks,¡± he says, feeling less irritated. ¡°And¡­ sorry. For last time. I don¡¯t want to get you in trouble. I just¡­¡± He shakes his head. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Just, sorry.¡± The templar waves him off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Keep doing your best, all right?¡± Cadeyrn nods. ¡°Good. Well, it¡¯s about time I go. People are going to start coming in any minute now. Pay attention in class!¡± The templar waves goodbye before climbing up the stairs and disappearing through the doorway. Cadeyrn waves back a little, and smiles. See, he does have a friend. His good mood evaporates by lunchtime. ¡°Well look at my favorite little novice,¡± Neria greets, seating herself next to him on the bench. Cadeyrn feels himself scowl as quick as lightning. ¡°Wow. He¡¯s so glad to see me, isn¡¯t he?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think we should be doing this,¡± Jowan says, sitting down next to her anyway. Cadeyrn stabs the peas on his plate. ¡°Why so glum, sunshine?¡± The elf knocks her shoulder against his. He bats her away. ¡°We have got to work on your people skills.¡± ¡°Go die, knife-ears,¡± he snaps. Jowan gasps. Immediately he feels the air crackle. Neria glowers, eyes thinned and gleaming darkly. ¡°You wanna say that again, you-¡± ¡°Neria Surana,¡± a raspy voice admonishes. Cadeyrn looks up and sees Irving, his arms crossed and face stern. The air clears as the elf woman rears back, smiling sheepishly. ¡°It appears to me that you are harassing this poor child.¡± ¡°Nonsense!¡± she cries, throwing an arm over Cadeyrn¡¯s shoulder. He tries to shove her off, but her grip is tight. ¡°It¡¯s just a bit of friendly banter and insult-slinging. We¡¯re good friends here! Right, sunshine?¡± She brings her mouth to his ear and whispers, ¡°If you nod your head I¡¯ll owe you a big favor.¡± He jerks his head to look at her, and she winks. ¡°Cadeyrn?¡± Irving prompts. He hesitates. Somehow he gets the feeling that even if Irving punished her now, she would just come back, like a bad rash or a case of mold. But if someone as powerful as her owes him a favor, then¡­ Cadeyrn gathers himself, looking up at Irving. He nods shallowly. ¡°She¡¯s¡­ okay,¡± he says, grimacing. ¡°Flattered,¡± Neria snarks into his ear. Irving lets out a deep sigh. ¡°All right. I will believe you for now. Do consider this a warning, however.¡± The First Enchanter pointedly looks at the elf, who pouts. ¡°Did you really get away with that?¡± Jowan asks incredulously. Neria smugly says, ¡°I think I just did,¡± and turns her smarmy smile at Cadeyrn. He curls his lip and spears another pea. ¡°So what do you want, sunshine?¡± the elf asks, bouncing on his bed. He kicks her with the leg that she isn¡¯t sitting on. ¡°Get off me,¡± he snarls, blinking blearily at the candle light. He had just gotten to sleep, and then she had to ruin it. She scoots off his leg. ¡°That¡¯s easy enough, sure. But what else?¡± She is insufferable. He growls out an aggravated sigh, rubbing his eyes with his fists. ¡°Why did you wake me up?¡± ¡°As I said earlier,¡± she says, fiddling with her unevenly-cut bangs, ¡°You¡¯re always either reading, in class, or sleeping, and I¡¯m not waking up at the crack of dawn to catch you when you¡¯re reading. And need I remind you, this is for your benefit.¡± She taps his chest with a finger. ¡°I owe you a favor, little one, and I always pay my debts. Well, almost always. So what will it be?¡± He stares at her. Right. The favor. He sighs and squints his eyes. He should have just told Irving she was a meddlesome sow. ¡°I need to think on it,¡± he ends up saying. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m not waiting for that.¡± She drapes herself over his legs and kicks her feet in the air. ¡°So maybe there¡¯s something I can help you with. Like socializing, for one.¡± He scowls. ¡°Didn¡¯t think so. What do you like to do? Any hobbies?¡± Cadeyrn pulls his legs out from under her, clutching them defensively to his chest. He tells her, ¡°I like swordplay. I¡¯m good at it,¡± because as dumb as he may be, he¡¯s not fool enough to think ignoring her will make her go away. Better to get it over with. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m good at playing with swords too, but it¡¯s not something I advertise often,¡± she says in a weird tone of voice, smirking. He looks at her flatly. There¡¯s no way he¡¯s would believe she knows how to fight with a knife, let alone a sword. ¡°You mean actual swords. Of course you do.¡± She gets up into a sitting position. ¡°In that case, there¡¯s nothing I can do for you¡­¡± Neria taps her bottom lip with a finger. ¡°Hm. How ¡®bout I teach you some magic instead? Could show you a few tricks with Primal spells that¡¯d put you ahead of the rest.¡± Cadeyrn looks at her suspiciously. ¡°What¡¯s Primal magic?¡± ¡°Maker,¡± she sighs. ¡°Okay. First, let¡¯s take this somewhere else. Follow me.¡± She slides off the bed and walks away. Cadeyrn stares after her, and after a moment¡¯s deliberation scrambles to put his boots on and follow. The Four Schools Neria brings him to one of the classrooms. A few apprentices mingle in the corner, but a sharkish grin from Neria sends them running. ¡°Right then,¡± she says, turning to Cadeyrn. ¡°Basics first, right? I like Primal magic. That means Elemental spells - you know, fire, cold, earth, lightning.¡± She waves a hand, and a blast of ice freezes the side of the wall. ¡°That there was a spell called Cone of Cold. Literally its range is shaped like a cone, and it¡¯s cold. Magic¡¯s difficult stuff.¡± Cadeyrn stares wide-eyed at the crisp sheet of frost that covered the entire other side of the room, including the desks and chairs. ¡°We¡¯ll blame someone else if anyone asks,¡± Neria says cheerfully. ¡°Anyway, Primal magic¡¯s all mostly for doing big damage. When you get real good, you can even meddle with the weather. Cause storms or earthquakes and the like. Needs a ton of power though, so don¡¯t try it ¡®til you¡¯re older. Even something like the Cone can take someone a few years to master.¡± Neria was not all that older than Cadeyrn - as a teenager in the upper range of years, she was only about 6 or 7 years older. Cadeyrn furrows his brows. ¡°What makes you better at magic than everyone else?¡± he asks, thinking of the weary, wrinkled, balding apprentices who could barely start a spark. Neria raises a brow. ¡°Stronger connection to the Fade, I suppose? Or maybe the Maker¡¯s got something in mind for me. Who knows.¡± Neria shrugs flippantly. ¡°Anyway, Primal¡¯s just one school of magic. There are three others. None of them are as interesting as Primal, of course, but they¡¯re useful in their own ways. There¡¯s Creation, basically a lot of do-good and healing; Spirit, which focuses on intangible energy - mind trumping body, I suppose you could say; and Entropy, which is all about death and curses.¡± Cadeyrn listens carefully while Neria begins explaining the details of each school. It¡¯s so much easier to listen to someone else explain rather than read it from a book with blocky and hard-to-read pointy letters, and despite how carefree Neria acts, he can tell that she probably knows more than any other apprentice here. ¡°So, the Primal school¡¯s the most common one people know, because, you know, hard to miss someone shooting lightning out of their arse. If you get real good at it, you can expect to be using it for whatever war the Crown wages, so don¡¯t stand out too much if you hate the idea of hurting people.¡± Cadeyrn shoots Neria a look, and she grins and wiggles her fingers. ¡°Oh, obviously, that¡¯s no problem for me. Irving likes to say that I¡¯m sociopathic,¡± she says fondly. ¡°Anyway, moving on¡­ ¡°Mages who specialize in Creation are the most ¡®useful¡¯. Specifically, they can not only heal injuries and ailments, but can make you temporarily stronger as well. They get to leave more often because people expect them to be nice and heal people rather than blow everything up. So if you¡¯re particularly longing for fresh air, you¡¯d best play nice and they¡¯ll eventually let you out of here every now and then. ¡°Spirit¡¯s a strange school. Not too many go far in it, but from what I can tell you¡¯re manipulating energies directly from the Fade. The only one you have to learn is the Barrier spell, just so you can stay alive, but the rest is fairly niche. About half of the Spirit spells that I know of are to be used against other mages, which really makes you wonder¡­ but anyway, there¡¯s not really a lot of uses for it unless you really like Spirits and have got a vendetta against people. Which, hey, maybe you might. ¡°The same goes for Entropy, really - the spells in that school target other people¡¯s life force, though actually not many of them directly do damage. Most of it is about making people weaker, cursing them. It¡¯s some nasty, subtle stuff, but though it¡¯s creepy as Blight none of it¡¯s actually forbidden. The only school of magic you¡¯re absolutely never to use is blood magic. Got it?¡± Cadeyrn nods. He¡¯s read enough about the evil of the Tevinters¡¯ blood magic from the history books. Neria smiles. ¡°Alright. So. If you¡¯ve got any questions, start cracking.¡± After a brief pause, Cadeyrn asks, ¡°Can you just pick what kind of magic you want?¡± ¡°Well, I mean, you do have to study it. Like with anything, you might understand one School quicker than you understand another. But the choice of what you want to learn is completely yours.¡± Her expression changes, growing thoughtful as she regards Cadeyrn. Discomfited, the boy crosses his arms defensively. ¡°What? ¡°Most people who come here can do at least a bit of magic. Show me what you can do.¡± Stony silence meets her demand. ¡°Show me yours and I¡¯ll show you mine?¡± Cadeyrn looks at her, looks to the still-frozen side of the room, and looks back. Neria sighs. ¡°Andraste, even silent you¡¯re still sassy. Fine, your loss then. I can¡¯t teach you how to use magic unless I know where you¡¯re at, after all.¡± Starting to walk away, she dramatically cries out, ¡°Lesson¡¯s over! Everyone go home. Goodbye, farewell, toodle-doo¡­¡± Pursing his lips, Cadeyrn glares and turns to the untouched side of the room. He closes his eyes and breathes. The crackling sound of ice from behind Neria gives her pause. She looks back to see Cadeyrn with a hand stretched out, a frozen wave of ice spearing out from the floor in front of him. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Neria grins sharkishly. ¡°Now that I can work with!¡± she crows, skipping back to the scowling boy to ruffle his hair. There¡¯s not much time left until curfew, so Neria shows him how to make a small wall out of ice (¡±The spell is literally called Wall of Ice, by the way¡±) and parts with a jaunty wave and a promise to pick up the lessons later. Cadeyrn falls into his bed, exhausted from the expenditure of his magic. When he wakes, the half-moon faintly illuminates the room. He crawls from his bed and brings his history book to Dell¡¯s post, where the young templar greets him with a nod. They rest in comfortable silence in the circular room, Dell standing responsibly on guard while Cadeyrn quietly sifts through the pages of the textbook. His head is full of glowing trails of magic, the sound of ice and the chill of frost, and he can barely string together the meanings of the letters before him. He takes a moment to rest his head in his hands. ¡°Are you alright?¡± Cadeyrn lifts his head to peer up at Dell, whose helmeted face regards him. Cadeyrn shrugs and leans back. ¡°Tired,¡± he says. His eyes drift shut again. Neria, grinning as she pulls upon the Fade, her skin twisting and warping into the shape of a demon. Green smoke rising from the stone floors of the dormitories. The beds sink, and everyone pours from their beds, half-liquid shadows with scarred, broken mouths. ¡°Hey.¡± A hand jostles Cadeyrn¡¯s shoulder, and the boy snaps awake with a burst of frost. Dell pulls in a breath, his outstretched fingers hovering, their tips whorled in white ice. A contrite expression flutters over Cadeyrn¡¯s face. He unsticks himself from the frozen wall. ¡°Sorry,¡± he mumbles, casting his gaze down to the ground. Dell draws his hand back and looks at the boy before him, whatever expression he¡¯s making unknowable through the heavy metal of the knight helmet. Cadeyrn tenses; he¡¯d used magic against a templar. Would that be taken as an attack? But Dell doesn¡¯t have much of a reaction. Other than pulling away his hand, he didn¡¯t seem to mind the cold frost that nearly took off his fingers. After a moment, he says, ¡°When I was younger, I stabbed my own brother.¡± At Cadeyrn¡¯s confused expression, Dell turns his head to look back toward the entrance of the room he guards.¡°I didn¡¯t mean to, of course. It was an accident. Our father had arranged for us to be taught swordplay, and we were just starting to learn to push the limits of our strength. My brother never liked the sword; he was a scholarly boy, always preferred books and libraries to the outdoors. But every man should learn to defend himself if he has the opportunity, so my father pushed him to attend lessons. I, meanwhile, craved every lesson. I had dreams of becoming a hero, a lord knight who would ride against armies and rescue beautiful damsels. I threw myself into the training and brashly swung my sword around at any moment I could. ¡°There was a day where I had been practicing alone in the grounds. I had been holding the sword in front of me, simply posing and feeling out the stances. But I had been building up, readying myself to launch into my swings. My brother had come up to me then from behind. Quiet as he was, I hadn¡¯t even noticed. All he did was simply call out my name, softly¡ª and in my mind, warped by my imagination of bloody battles and feverish with instinct, it became an attack. So I spun around and stabbed, just like I had practiced so many times before. ¡°By the time I realized what I had done, my brother was already on the ground and bleeding out. I called out for help from my father, the servants, anyone. Someone fetched a healer, who stabilized him for a moment, but the damage was¡­ severe. It was not certain that he would last for much longer.¡± Dell¡¯s quiet voice pauses. His helmet points stoically at the entrance, and Cadeyrn looks at that metal shining with moonlight as though a blade rested on its edge. ¡°It was then,¡± Dell said, ¡°that the templars from the Chantry came. They escorted a mage, a tall and willowy woman with grey hair and kind eyes. My mother hadn¡¯t wanted her there¡ª the last thing we needed was magic, she said. But in the face of my mother¡¯s anguished rage, the mage only looked at her with a great calm. And when my mother had finished shouting, the mage said that she was here to save my brother¡¯s life. ¡°What she did was a miracle. The fatal wound that I had inflicted on my brother faded in an instant. The mage looked winded by the end, but she did not ask for recompense of any sort. She merely said that our thanks was enough, and she looked at me and said that I should perhaps try to be more careful in the future. And that was it. She left, the templars following her out, and returned on her journey. ¡°When my brother recovered enough to regain his senses, I slunk to his side like a beat-up dog, ready to face whatever blame and hatred I thought he must have for me. I had nearly killed him, after all, and such a thing could not be so easily passed off. Yet pass it off he did. My brother took one look at my guilty face and laughed, though it pained his ribs. He told me that I should not feel as if the entire weight of the blame rested on me, for he should have known better than to startle someone with a sharp sword in his hands. He said that people approaching those who wield great power should be wary, lest that power be turned on them; and he also said that people with great power should be cautious and practice proper restraint, for if they wield their power too loosely, they will drive away everyone around them until no one dares to stand by their sides.¡± The helmet turns to the side, then, and an echoing laugh escapes from it when the man inside catches sight of Cadeyrn¡¯s consternated face. ¡°Yes, he¡¯s quite a wordy person, my brother. Likes to think he¡¯s a poet. But what he said was right. If you approach someone with a sword, you should be careful to not get stabbed. Likewise, if you wield the sword, you should try your best not to stab anyone you didn¡¯t mean to. But accidents will happen eventually, so at that time, we should be forgiving and do our best to be more cautious for the next time. Do you agree?¡± Hearing that question, Cadeyrn blinks, and the vague pieces of the story finally slot together in his head. The templar is trying to teach him something. He wonders if this is what a storybook is like, this kind of long and fantastical tale about brothers and swords, magic and forgiveness. He bites his lip and nods, understanding, somewhat, that Dell was trying to tell him that he was forgiven for using his magic, but should try not to do so again. Cadeyrn thinks of the strict watch the templars had against magic use, now, after the demon-mage, and wonders if someone else would have cut him down rather than try to teach him a lesson. Satisfied by the boy¡¯s acquiescence, Dell hums and turns back to stand properly at his post. ¡°I feel I should tell you the rest of the story, now,¡± he says, after a short and thoughtful silence. ¡°It was because of this that I gave up on my ambitions of becoming some heroic knight, and instead opted to join the Templar Order. I felt that I should follow a path of restraint and protection rather than one of bloodlust and boasting, and I also could not forget the kindness of the mage who had saved my brother. I had not known much about mages back then. She completely overturned everything I thought I knew about them¡ªabout you. I decided that it would be an honor to dedicate my life to the protection and guidance of the people who wielded such a miraculous power, for I realized, then, that mages are all people like anyone else, capable of great generosity and altruism in unexpected places. When the Maker said that magic must serve man, not rule over him, I believed this to mean that the mages must become the masters of their own magic, never letting the fear of their own powers rule over them; for when a mage accepts their abilities and masters their potential, they are capable of greater feats than anyone.¡± Dell looks at Cadeyrn sitting on the stone floor, the heavy book open in front of him. A trace of frost lingers like dust scattered over the stone. ¡°I believe in your potential. You¡¯re young, but already I see that you have a drive unlike many of your peers. That¡¯s why I encourage you to keep trying your best, and don¡¯t take any failures to heart. And whatever worries you may have, you¡¯re welcome to share them with me.¡± A long time had passed while Dell told his story. Now, the sun began to peek from the horizon, a soft glow emanating from the windows. Cadeyrn regards the figure of the knight as the morning light of dawn casts a halo over the armored silhouette. A strange warmth curls up inside of him. ¡°Alright,¡± he says quietly, turning his face down to hide the shine in his eyes.