The City of Chains ( part 2)

With a determined stride, Cullen made his way through the wide streets of High Town, his eyes fixed on the grand Amell Estate looming in the distance. The sky was bathed in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the city as it slowly began to recover from the vicious Qunari attack and the Viscount's murder. The residents of High Town were finally taking tentative steps towards normalcy, their spirits buoyed by the knowledge that they had survived the onslaught.

As he approached the estate, his thoughts turned to Hawke, the Ferelden refugee who had defied all expectations to become one of the most influential people in Kirkwall. Despite her noble status, Hawke was a breath of fresh air in the city's arrogant and entitled high society. The woman was very quirky and impulsive, but over the years they had the chance to work together on several occasions and came to respect each other.

The Templar couldn't shake the feeling that more could have been done during the battle against the Qunari. The Knight-Commander had insisted on keeping a close eye on the mages, fearing that they would use the chaos as an opportunity to escape the Circle. Meredith's insistence on supervising the Gallows had left them unable to provide adequate support during the attack. Instead, they were forced to guard the mages, leaving the city guards to face the brunt of the assault. Despite their bravery, they had been vastly outnumbered, as many residents of Low Town had joined forces with the heretics, making the battle all the more difficult.

He felt a sense of admiration for Hawke, the woman who had saved them all. It was thanks to her courage and skill that the city had been saved from the wrath of the Arishok. She had challenged the Qunari leader to a duel, with the fate of the City of Chains resting on her shoulders. The battle had been long and brutal, with both sides determined to fight until their last breath. In the end, however, it was Hawke who emerged victorious. The Templar had heard that she had been gravely maimed during the fight and had barely made it out alive.

As the savior of the city, Hawke had been named the Champion of Kirkwall by Grand Cleric Elthina. Cullen had been sent to tell her this important news, and also to inform her of the ceremony that would be held in her honor once she had recovered. Despite the chaos and destruction that had befallen Kirkwall, he felt a sense of hope for the future, knowing that there were people like Hawke fighting for the greater good.

The Templar's thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he finally reached the estate. He knocked on the thick oak door embellished with carvings and decorative metalwork and was greeted by an elven servant who led him inside.

The halls of the estate were elegant and refined, filled with lavish tapestries and intricate artwork. Finally, he arrived in a room where the air was heavy with the scent of antiseptics and healing potions. His eyes immediately fell upon Hawke, who lay propped up in bed, her injuries on full display. Her head was wrapped in bandages, covering half of her face, the other half looking bruised and swollen. As his gaze traveled down her body, he noticed that her chest was also heavily wrapped. Despite her injuries, she somehow managed to maintain a cheerful demeanor. At her side were Fenris and Sebastian, their expressions concerned.

Cullen approached the bed and spoke softly, breaking the silence. "I have news, Hawke," he said. "For your bravery in the face of the Qunari invasion, you have been awarded the title of the Champion of Kirkwall."

Hawke's eyes lit up with excitement, "Bout time they be seein' the value in me skills," she said. A faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she added, "At least I didn't lose me tit and me eye fer nothin'."

Cullen was taken aback by her candidness, unsure of how to respond. "I, I umm..." he stuttered before trailing off.

Sebastian stepped in to reassure Hawke, "Fear not, for every wound you bear while defending the innocent shall only enhance your beauty in the sight of the Maker." He said, placing a gentle hand on Hawke's shoulder.

The Champion sighed deeply. "I don't give a rat's arse how the Maker be seein' me." She muttered, "I'd sooner be knowin' if me man still finds me comely, aye?"

Sebastian chuckled at Hawke's blunt honesty, his expression tender. "You are one insufferable woman."

"Glad to see you in high spirits, Hawke," the Templar said, trying to change the subject. "May the Maker bless you with a smooth and swift recovery from your injuries," he added.

Fenris, who had been quietly observing the exchange, spoke up. "Knowing her, she will be out of bed chasing bandits and slavers in no time," he said with a hint of admiration in his voice.

As Cullen took his leave, saying goodbye to the trio, he couldn't help but be surprised that Sebastian hadn't protested being referred to as 'me man'. It seemed that Hawke had found a special place in the Brother's heart after all.

Life in the bustling city of Kirkwall was back to its usual rhythm, but nothing was ever truly normal in this place. The recent vacancy of the Viscount's seat had been filled by none other than Knight-Commander Meredith herself. The once-shadowy ruler now occupied the seat of power in plain sight, determined to hold onto it with an iron grip. Try as he might, Cullen couldn't imagine how she would manage to juggle ruling the Gallows and the city at the same time. The Knight-Commander was spreading herself thin, but any concerns voiced by her subordinates were met with icy glares and harsh reprimands. Commander Meredith had always been a force to be reckoned with, but lately, her behavior had become more and more erratic.

Meredith's once-vigilant attitude had turned into full-blown paranoia. She saw traitors everywhere, not just among the mages but also among her own Knights. Every move made by her subordinates was monitored with strict scrutiny, and the slightest misstep was enough to get a Templar kicked out of the Order. Cut off from the lyrium they needed, these outcast Knights suffered terrible withdrawal symptoms and were forced to beg on the streets or join bandits to survive.

Despite the Order's dwindling numbers in Kirkwall, Meredith refused to accept Knights outside of the city, choosing instead to rely solely on her troops. She simply did not trust outsiders and believed that any Templar from another Circle could be a potential traitor.

Cullen stood in the Gallows courtyard, surrounded by his Knight-Lieutenants, giving out orders for the day ahead. As he finished speaking, a familiar face approached him, her expression one of fiery indignation. It was Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, who was seemingly involved in everything that happened in the City of Chains.

As she drew closer, he could see the anger in her remaining eye. She wasted no time in expressing her frustration. "This be nonsense! I need to speak with yer Commander, but ye scallywags won't let me parley with 'er!" she exclaimed.

The Templar furrowed his brow, "Could you please clarify what's going on?" he asked, hoping to understand the situation.

Hawke's response only added to his confusion. She explained that rumors were circulating throughout the city that the Templars were planning to make all mages Tranquil, even those who had already passed their Harrowing. She had been trying to find out if the rumors were true, but the Knight-Commander refused to speak with her.

Cullen was taken aback by this news. "Surely you wouldn't believe in such nonsense," he said to Hawke, hoping to reassure her. "I know the Knight-Commander can be harsh, but she wouldn't go as far as that."

The Champion was undeterred. "Can ye at least speak with 'er about it" she pleaded. "I'm being pummeled by the kin o' them mages, all beggin' to know the truth o' the matter."

"I will look into it," he assured her. "And I will send you a note as soon as I find something."

Hawke thanked him and gave him a grateful pat on the shoulder before hurrying away. Cullen watched her go, deep in thought.

As the day drew to a close, he resolved to uncover the truth about this matter as soon as possible. He made his way to the Knight-Commander's office, determined to get to the bottom of it during his evening report. He entered Meredith's office, saluted, and handed her the documents. As the woman sitting behind the desk finished scanning the papers and looked up at him, the air felt tense and heavy. Her reddened eyes were surrounded by dark circles, and her usually pale skin appeared even more drained. She looked like any other Knight in the Order, tired and overworked. Yet, despite her obvious exhaustion, she remained a picture of stoic composure.

"I see that today passed without any incidents," she said, her voice quiet yet still commanding. "It's a rarity for which we should give thanks to the Maker. However, there's always more work to be done. Do you remember Knight-Templar Samson? I believe you two shared quarters."

Cullen nodded. "Yes, Ser. He seemed like a decent man, but his sympathy for the enchanters led him astray, and he was dismissed from the Order."

The Knight-Commander's face grew somber. "There is always a price to be paid for trusting the mages," she said gravely. "I have received word that he now lives on the streets of Lowtown, spending his days begging and slandering the Chantry and the Templar Order. You have the discretion to employ any method you see fit, but I expect you to put a decisive end to this behavior."

"Understood, Knight-Commander. I will take immediate action," he said, and after a brief pause added, "Request permission to ask a question on an unrelated matter, Ser."

"Granted," she replied, her voice firm.

"Ser, there have been rumors circulating in the city that the Order intends to subject all mages in the Gallows to the Rite of Tranquility."

Her eyes narrowed, "Are you referring to the Tranquil Solution proposed by Ser Alrik?" she asked, her voice icy. "How did this information disseminate so rapidly throughout the city? Just as I thought, there are ears everywhere."

Cullen swallowed, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead. "With all due respect, Knight-Commander, this proposal is reckless. The Rite of Tranquility should be considered only as a last resort," he said, his voice shaking slightly.

"I am aware of this, Captain Cullen," she replied, her tone slightly annoyed. "I have carefully considered the matter and have decided to reject the proposal. If that was all, I have pressing duties that require my attention."

Relieved that his fears were unfounded, Cullen saluted again and left the Knight-Commander's office. As he made his way through the halls of the Gallows, he sent a raven with the news to Hawke and resolved to head to Lowtown to deal with Samson.

He strode purposefully through the narrow, winding streets of the district, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of Samson. Cullen's task was not an easy one, Lowtown was a maze of winding alleys and tall, crumbling buildings looming on either side. The only sources of light were dim lanterns hanging from the walls, which barely illuminated the surrounding area. As he made his way through the twisting streets, he questioned the few people he encountered. Most were unwilling to speak to a Templar, and those who did provide information were either vague or unhelpful. The handful of paupers he encountered were equally uncooperative, either out of fear or distrust.

The man continued his task, determined not to give up until he found the former Knight. After hours of fruitless searching, he finally came across a group of beggars huddled around a small fire and paused to ask them if they had any information on the ex-Templar. They stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes, but one of them finally spoke up, pointing in the direction of an old warehouse on the outskirts of the district.

Cullen thanked the man and set off in the direction he had indicated. He arrived at the site to find it abandoned and dilapidated, with the windows boarded up and the door rusted shut. As he drew near, however, he heard a low moaning coming from inside.

Drawing his sword, he pushed open the door and cautiously entered the dark interior of the building. The moaning grew louder, and he soon found himself in a corner of the warehouse, where a figure lay huddled in the shadows.

It was Samson, emaciated and barely conscious, his body writhing with the agony of withdrawal. He was rambling incoherently about his lost cause and the wrongs he had suffered at the hands of the Chantry.

Cullen couldn't help but feel sympathy for him as he sheathed his sword and reached into his pouch to pull out a vial of lyrium. When he poured the contents into the man's mouth, the effect was instantaneous. Samson's eyes shot open, his hands grabbing for the bottle as he greedily gulped down more. He looked wild, like a man possessed, his desperation clear as he clutched at the vial.

"More," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Please, I beg of you. I am so thirsty, it's unbearable."

Cullen rose to his feet, looking down at the broken man before him with pity. "I can't offer you any more lyrium," he said firmly, his tone gentle but resolute. "Now, listen to me carefully. If you want to remain a free man, you have to stop openly criticizing the Chantry and the Order."

Samson looked at him in disbelief with sunken and hollow eyes. " A free man?" he spat, his voice bitter. "I was on a leash since the day I joined the Order. The lyrium...I never realized that it was taking more than just the fear, slowly, painlessly, until one day I woke up and couldn't do without the stuff."

Cullen winced as the man clung to his feet with surprising strength while he continued to plead. "It's like a desperate thirst that nothing but lyrium can quench, please, just a little bit more. Just enough to ease my pain."

The Templar was trying to pull away from the man's grasp, but Samson held on tight, his voice trembling with emotion as he spoke. "It's not going to be for free," he said, desperation creeping into his words. "I could give you names. Meredith would be pleased."

Cullen's interest was piqued. "What names are you talking about?" he asked, his tone laced with confusion.

"Mages, for whom I smuggled things in and out of the Circle," Samson said, his eyes darting nervously. "Maddox wasn't the only one that I helped."

"You're lying," The Templar accused, his voice low with suspicion. "It's just an excuse to get more lyrium out of me."

"No, it's the truth, I swear to the Maker!" he insisted, his voice becoming more frantic. "I was protecting them, that's why I didn't mention their names at the time of my arrest, but I'm dying here, it's either them or me now."

The Templar's eyes narrowed, "Fine," he said after a pause. "I promise you one more vial of lyrium if you tell me who they were."

"Two vials," Samson countered, his eyes gleaming with greed. "It's a long list."

"No," Cullen replied, his voice steelier than before. "Either you take one, or I leave, and the next time you slander the Chantry, you go to the cell."

"All right, one then." The man reluctantly relented.

Cullen handed over the vial of lyrium to Samson, who took it with a shaking hand. The former Knight hurriedly gave him the names of the mages he had been helping, along with the items they usually requested. There were a total of eight people, some of them Senior Enchanters. The things they wanted varied from sweets to jewelry, and other mundane items that they could have theoretically obtained by making a request. As soon as the man finished speaking, he gulped down the lyrium and sank to the floor in relief. Within moments, he was snoring loudly.

Cullen left the warehouse, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He knew that for Meredith, Samson's words would be enough to sentence the mages to Tranquility without trial. If he disclosed this information to the Knight-Commander, he would be dooming eight enchanters who might not be guilty of anything sinister. Yet, if he didn't, he would be shirking his duty. He had shown leniency once before, and it had turned into tragedy.

The Templar couldn't shake a feeling of unease, he knew that whichever option he chose, it would not sit well with him. However, the Knight-Commander's methods had never failed him before, and he trusted her judgment when it came to keeping the city safe.

With a heavy heart, he took a deep breath and gripped the hilt of his sword. His eyes were fixed on the path ahead, and his jaw clenched tightly as he made his way toward the Gallows. The sounds of the city faded into the background as he concentrated on the weight of his weapon, which seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment.

True to form, Meredith didn't bother to verify Samson's story, nor did she attempt to put the mages on trial before sentencing them all to the Rite of Tranquility. In response, the Circle erupted in indignation.

This was the final straw for the First Enchanter Orsino. He made a bold decision to leave the Gallows, despite not having permission to do so, and made his way to the bustling plaza in front of the Chantry, where he started to voice his grievances. The tension in the air was palpable as Orsino stood on the steps leading up to the main cathedral, his voice echoing throughout the square of Kirkwall. He was determined to rally the people and make them aware of the struggles that the mages were facing under the rule of Knight-Commander Meredith.

As he spoke, a crowd of curious onlookers and sympathetic supporters gathered around him, their eyes fixed on the passionate mage. The First Enchanter knew that this was his moment to shine, to make a stand against the oppressive regime that had ruled over his Circle for far too long.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the square. Cullen, together with several other Templars, followed behind Knight-Commander Meredith, her face contorted with anger as she marched towards the mage.

The Templars looked uneasy, their armor clanking as they tried to keep up with their commander. Cullen silently prayed to the Maker that they could resolve this conflict peacefully, but deep down, he knew that it was unlikely.

The enchanter continued to speak, his words full of passion and conviction, as Meredith approached him. The two locked eyes and it was clear that neither would be willing to compromise.

"I have every right to employ the Rite of Tranquility on those blood mages!" Meredith shouted, her voice like steel, as she strode right up to Orsino. The people in the crowd began to murmur, and a few started to boo the Knight-Commander.

"What blood mages? They are esteemed enchanters of the Circle. Yet you accuse them of corruption without any proof." The First Enchanter countered, his voice ringing out loud and clear.

The crowd started to cheer, emboldening Orsino further. He could feel the support of the people, and it gave him the courage to continue speaking out against the tyranny of the Knight-Commander.

"I have every proof that I need, mage. Step down and follow me to the Gallows. My patience is at its end." Meredith's voice dripped with menace, and the tension in the air reached a boiling point. Just as it seemed like things were about to come to a head, a familiar voice boomed through the square.

"Avast ye scallywags! Be settlin' yer nerves and lower yer voices!" It was Hawke, accompanied by Sebastian and Fenris, who had arrived on the scene just in time to defuse the situation.

"This does not involve you, Champion." The Knight-Commander hissed.

"I called her here, people deserve to know just what you want to do," Orsino replied.

"All I want to do is protect the city and its people and save you mages from your curse and your own stupidity." Meredith retorted. She turned to the crowd and said, "I will not stop performing my duties! I will not lower my guard, I dare not!"

Hawke looked at the woman unimpressed. "Do ye be knowin' what 'touched in the head' means, matey?"

Commander Meredith shot the Champion a deadly glare but chose to ignore her insolence. "What other options do I have? Do you not know what mages can do? Do you not see how they seek power to rule over us?"

"You would cast us all as villains, but it is not so!" Orsino intervened.

Meredith's expression turned pained for a moment as she looked at the enchanter. "I know and it breaks my heart to do it, but I must be vigilant." Her expression changed again to one of ire, "If you can't tell me any other way, don't brand me a tyrant!"

 "This is getting us nowhere, Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this," the First Enchanter grumbled and turned to head up the stairs.

Meredith raised her hand to signal the man to stop, but before she could utter a word, a voice thundered through the square, "She's not going to help you!" The sudden interruption caught everyone's attention, and they turned their heads in unison toward the source of the sound. There, standing in the center of the square, was a man with thin blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. He was dressed in black robes that seemed to blend into the shadows, and his pale skin was visibly cracked, allowing blue light to escape from beneath it.

As he walked toward the Knight-Commander the crowd instinctively parted before him, each person too afraid to get too close to the strange, otherworldly aura that seemed to emanate from his very being. The man's eyes were wild, filled with a passionate intensity that bordered on insanity, and his movements were jerky and unpredictable as if he were possessed by some unseen force.

"Anders? Is that you?" Hawke's voice was laced with confusion as she tried to make sense of the situation.

"The time for compromise is over!" the blond man declared with an air of finality. "There will be no half-measures. Mages will no longer submit to their Templar jailers. Let the world see our wrath!" The apostate slammed his staff into the pavement, causing a shockwave to ripple through the ground.

Meredith raised her sword in response, unleashing a Holy Smite, aiming it directly at the mage's head. The force of the blow was tremendous, splitting his forehead open and sending blood and brain matter spraying into the air. However, it was already too late to stop the unfolding spell. Magical energy filled the air, and the ground shook violently beneath their feet.

The explosion that followed was like a thunderclap, a deafening roar that shook the very foundations of the city. The force of the blast sent everyone on the square tumbling to the ground, Cullen's ears rang with the sound of shattering glass and crumbling stone.

For a moment, all was chaos and confusion. Flames licked at the wreckage of the Chantry's main cathedral, sending smoke and ash billowing into the sky. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning wood, and the screams of the injured and dying could be heard as they struggled to escape the ruins.

Cullen coughed and blinked, trying to clear the ash-filled air from his lungs and eyes. As he struggled to his feet, he felt a numbness spreading through his body, as if he were watching the events unfold in slow motion. The First Enchanter's lifeless body lay sprawled on the stairs, a jagged piece of wood protruding from his chest. He then saw Brother Sebastian, one of the few surviving members of the Chantry, on his knees, tears streaming down his face as he looked up at the burning ruins of his home. Hawke was by his side, trying to offer words of comfort and solace. Fenris was already on his feet, rushing to aid one of the injured Templars. His strong arms effortlessly lifted the wounded soldier, while his face was set in grim determination.

As the smoke cleared, the full extent of the destruction became apparent. The once proud Chantry was now a twisted mass of wreckage and flames, and the surrounding streets were littered with debris and rubble. Bodies lay strewn about, their lifeless forms twisted in unnatural positions.

 Cullen noticed that warm streaks were running down his chin. He raised his hand to his face and winced in pain as his fingers brushed against a deep cut that ran from the corner of his lip to his cheek. The wound throbbed, sending sharp jolts of pain through his head at the touch. He could taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he tried to assess the extent of the injury. The cut was deep and would require attention, but he knew he couldn't let it distract him.

It was like Kinloch Hold all over again—a reminder of the horror that magic could unleash upon the world. However, he was no longer the fresh-faced Knight he once was. He steeled his heart and went in search of his Commander, determined to do whatever it took to protect the people of Kirkwall from this madness.

He found Meredith standing amidst the destruction, her sword still in hand, her armor battered and bloodied. Despite the deep gash on her temple and blood streaming down her face, she seemed almost exhilarated as she turned to address the Templars.

"The Grand Cleric has been slain by magic, the Chantry destroyed," she declared, her voice ringing out above the chaos. "As the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed immediately!"

Cullen heard the cheers and shouts of approval from the people of Kirkwall and the Templars around him, but he didn't feel fully convinced. "Ser, the perpetrator responsible for this heinous act has already been slayed, besides, he was not a part of our Circle," he pointed out.

Commander Meredith turned to him, her eyes blazing with a fanatical zeal. "I am sure he was in cahoots with the First Enchanter," she insisted. "Can't you see that all of this is connected? The blood mages inside the Gallows, the abomination that killed her Grace. The corruption overtook the entire Circle. We cannot save it."

Sebastian stepped forward, his eyes were bloodshot with anger and grief. "We must avenge Elthina," he declared, his voice choked with emotion. "She was like a mother to everyone in the city, the most faithful, the most beloved..." Hawke squeezed his hand in a silent gesture of support.

Cullen swallowed, feeling a cold knot tightening up in his stomach. It looked like there was no way to avoid bloodshed.

News of the impending annulment of the Circle of Magi spread like a noxious, swirling storm through the streets of Kirkwall. Rumors and whispers, urgent and insistent, became shouts and roars as people from all corners of the city, eager to seek revenge for the death of the Grand Cleric, rushed into the fray. To make matters worse, marauders took advantage of the chaos to loot and pillage the city, indiscriminately attacking anyone who got in their way. The City Guard tried their best to control the situation, hoping to prevent further civilian casualties, but they simply didn't have the numbers.

 The mages, sensing that their very lives were at stake, fought with all their might, unleashing their formidable powers upon the streets of the city. Kirkwall had turned into a battlefield, where magic clashed with steel and the sound of screams filled the air.

As the conflict escalated, the cornered and frightened enchanters were driven to desperation. In their last-ditch effort to save themselves, many turned to the forbidden art of blood magic. Some sought to take down as many Templars with them as possible, while others were simply ready to pay any price to save their own lives. The streets became flooded with demons and abominations.

Amid this bloodbath, Cullen began to feel a deep sense of unease. Every mage that fell to his sword felt like a mistake, a betrayal of his own beliefs. This was not the reason he joined the Order, not why he dedicated his life to its service, not why he accepted the eventual madness that comes with lyrium addiction. He had joined the Templars to be a savior, a protector of the innocent. Yet, at this moment, he felt like an executioner.

After a grueling fight that had lasted for hours, the weary and battered group finally stood before the crumbling Gallows. The last surviving mage of the Circle lay lifeless on the floor. The elderly enchanter had met his fate with dignity, refusing to offer even a hint of resistance. In his final moments, he spat in Cullen's face before his sword delivered the fatal blow.

The Templar grimly looked at the destruction surrounding him, his mind drifting back to the day he first arrived in Kirkwall. What had a decade of his service achieved? Despite his best efforts to prevent the tragedy of Kinloch Hold from repeating itself, he found himself standing amidst the ruins of yet another Circle of Magi. This time, the entire city lay in shambles alongside it. The Right of Annulment had been carried out, but had it truly made things better?

As the man's dark thoughts consumed him, Meredith's voice rang out, cutting through the heavy silence. "Knights of the Order, we have almost purged the city of corruption. However, there is still one traitor among us." Her sword pointed directly at Hawke, her accusatory tone leaving no room for doubt. "You all heard that The Champion of Kirkwall called the abomination that destroyed the Chantry by its name. She knew the monster, but she never reported him to the Gallows."

Hawke's face twisted in anger and disbelief, her mouth opening to protest, but Sebastian stepped in front of her, blocking Meredith's line of sight. "I don't mean to offend, but, Knight-Commander, your accusations are unfounded," he declared firmly. "As a member of the Chantry, I can attest to the fact that we met the man once, many years ago, to purchase maps of the Deep Roads. Yes, we knew he was an apostate, but he was providing healing for the poor. I convinced Hawke not to report him because he was doing Maker's work in Lowtown. If anyone is to blame, it is me. Arrest me if you must, but leave the Champion out of this."

Meredith's eyes blazed with an almost otherworldly light, her voice cracked with menacing energy. "Maker preserve me, corruption exists even in the Chantry's ranks," she muttered, her words laced with disgust. "The Brother and the Champion both succumbed to the influence of blood magic."

"Knight-Commander," Cullen's voice rang out, the tension palpable in the air. "The Champion of Kirkwall and Brother Sebastian have exhibited unwavering dedication in providing aid to the citizens of Kirkwall on numerous occasions. Having worked closely with them for an extended period, I can attest to their unblemished character."

Meredith was having none of it. Her eyes glinted dangerously, and her sword started to glow with an ominous red light as she pointed it toward Cullen. "You will do as I command," she hissed.

Cullen's resolve hardened; his hand was on the hilt of his sword now. "No, I refuse to continue executing your commands without question. This has gone too far."

Commander Meredith's face twisted in anger as she held her sword aloft. "I will not allow insubordination!" she snarled.

Hawke stepped forward, a glint of recognition in her eyes as she beheld the metal of the Knight-Commander sword. "Meredith, that thing be treacherous! 'Twill drive ye insane, mark me words!"

However, the woman was not about to listen to anyone. "Lies!" she spat. "This is pure lyrium from the Deep Roads. It gives me the strength to stay vigilant. Templars, to arms! We must eradicate this threat once and for all!"

Hawke tightly grasped her weapon, poised to defend herself, while Sebastian's hand instinctively reached for his arrows and the tattoos on Fenris's body began to glow.

Cullen's voice was steady as he stood his ground, unsheathing his sword. "Enough! This is not what the Order stands for. Knight-Commander, step down. I relieve you of your command!"

Meredith's face contorted in disbelief. "My own Knight-Captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic," she muttered darkly. And then, with a sudden burst of fury, she whirled around, her eyes blazing with anger.

"You all have!" she cried out to the assembled Templars. "You are all weak, allowing the mages to control your mind and turn you against me!"

The Templars began to back away, their allegiance uncertain. However, Meredith was not done yet. "But I don't need any of you anymore," she snarled. "I can protect the city myself!" she exclaimed, slamming her sword into the ground and falling to her knees to pray.

Her voice rose with every word, filled with righteous fury. "Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and DO NOT FALTER!" She cried out, her words echoing off the walls as she grabbed her sword and leaped in to attack.

Meredith moved with inhuman speed, her movements precise and calculated as she lunged at Cullen with her lyrium sword. He used his shield to fend off her attacks, dodging and weaving to avoid the deadly strikes.

Hawke, Fenris, and Sebastian were in perfect sync, each one covering the other's weaknesses and taking advantage of any opening. They attacked Meredith when she was off-balance, their movements fluid and graceful as they danced around her. However, Meredith was a force to be reckoned with, and she was not going down without a fight. Her sword glowed with eerie, otherworldly energy as she summoned waves of power that rolled through the floor and knocked Hawke and her companions back. The sheer force of her attacks was enough to stagger them, and they struggled to regain their footing.

This gave the woman the opportunity to concentrate her attention on the Templar. The clash of metal against metal filled the air as the Knight-Commander unleashed a barrage of attacks on Cullen, her movements were precise as she launched one strike after another at her opponent. The intensity of her hits grew with every passing moment, her two-handed sword slamming into Cullen's shield with a strength that defied comprehension. Every hit sent shockwaves through Cullen's body, but he fought on, trying to maintain his guard against the relentless assault.

Despite his best efforts, his shield was no match for the lyrium-infused sword of the Knight-Commander. Soon, it became so deformed from the force of her blows that it was no longer serviceable, leaving Cullen vulnerable.

Suddenly, an arrow flew through the air and grazed the Commander's neck, leaving a deep wound. The woman let out a piercing wail, but quickly regained her composure and channeled energy from her weapon to create a deep red barrier around her form. As the next arrows hit her, they were deflected by the impenetrable shield. Fenris tried to phase through the barrier, using his abilities to his advantage. Instead, a potent charge was generated at the contact, which caused him to be thrown several meters away, leaving him in pain and disoriented. Hawke didn't waste a second and plunged herself into the attack, but the sphere was impenetrable, her blows achieving nothing.

Completely ignoring the Champion, the Knight-Commander swung her lyrium sword in an arch, creating a single powerful shockwave aimed directly at the elf. Cullen threw himself in front of the man, shielding him from harm. The force of Meredith's attack was overwhelming, completely shattering his deformed shield with a thunderous blast of energy. He stumbled backward, leaving himself defenseless. Seizing the opportunity, Meredith charged forward with a vicious intensity, her sword slicing through Cullen's armor like a hot knife through butter. The blade left a deep gash on his chest, causing a geyser of blood to spurt forth, while the man's vision blurred from the searing pain as he fell to the floor. Despite his agony, Cullen fought to stay conscious, gritting his teeth, but the wound was deep and the blood loss was starting to take its toll.

Unexpectedly, the Knight-Commander froze, her lyrium sword dripping with blood as she looked at her wounded Knight-Captain. The glow in her eyes flickered weakly as doubts and uncertainty crept into her mind. Looking lost and pained, she turned her back on him and began to walk away, muttering, "Maker, guide your humble servant. Is this really what I must do? What if I am wrong? What if this is all madness!?"

Brother Sebastian sprang into action, seizing the opportunity to tend to the Templar's wounds. He swiftly poured one healing potion over the injury and another one into his mouth. Cullen's pain subsided and the blood loss slowed, but he was in no condition to continue fighting. However, he knew he could still contribute. "Hawke, Fenris, be ready," he called out, "I will try to weaken her shield." Meredith shook her head vigorously, determination etched on her face. "NO! You dare not!" she screamed, facing Cullen just as he called upon the power of lyrium to dispel her barrier. His gambit paid off, and the Knight-Commander blinked in confusion as her crimson sphere began to slowly dissipate. Grateful for the opening, the elf summoned all his strength, his enchanted tattoos blazing with an intense blue light as he unleashed a blast of spiritual force at the Commander Meredith. The blast slammed into the woman, causing her shield to collapse completely. In that split second, Hawke lunged forward, her weapon striking true and sending Meredith tumbling to the ground. Brother Sebastian launched a flurry of arrows at the fallen Knight-Commander, each one finding its mark with deadly precision and biting deep into her flesh. Bloodied and wounded, Meredith let out a guttural scream, "I will not be defeated! Maker! Heed your humble ser--" Just as she was about to finish her plea, a sudden and deafening crack reverberated through the air, causing everyone to freeze in place. It was then that Cullen noticed that the Commander's sword was quickly crumbling in her grasp. Before he could make sense of what was happening, a fierce and vibrant swirl of red light erupted from the remains of the weapon, spreading out and enveloping the Knight-Commander in a blazing inferno. The Templar watched in horror as his Commander let out a piercing wail of agony, her body writhing and contorting as the crimson flames licked hungrily at her skin. The acrid scent of burning flesh filled the air around them as the flames continued to consume the woman relentlessly until she was nothing more than a blackened, smoldering husk.

***

Cullen stood at the railing of the "Unsinkable," watching as the city of Kirkwall shrank into the distance behind him. Despite the blazing sun overhead, a chill lingered inside him, and he pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. At his side stood Cassandra Pentaghast, the Right Hand of the Divine, her short raven hair whipping around her face in the wind. "I am glad that you accepted my offer, Cullen. To tell you the truth, given your dedication to the Templar Order, I didn't expect you to agree," she spoke with a light Nevarran accent.

Cullen remained silent for a long moment, lost in thought. The seagulls above screeched and wheeled in the sky, their cries mingling with the sound of the waves below. Finally, he spoke, his voice firm and resolute. "The Circles have fallen. I can give no more to the Templar Order, nor it to me. When you approached me with the proposition to join your cause, I realized that the Maker was showing me a new path. I felt that I must take it."

The Right Hand nodded in approval, seemingly pleased with his answer. "You have proven yourself to be a capable leader. We can use someone with your experience and expertise."

The man gave a small smile at the compliment.

The ship continued to sail further and further from Kirkwall, the city now a mere speck on the horizon. Finally, the woman turned to the former Templar and asked, "Would you like to join me and Leliana for lunch?"

He shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the distant shore. "Thank you for the offer, but I would prefer to stay on the deck."

"As you wish, I will see you later then," Cassandra replied. With that, she walked away, leaving Cullen alone with his thoughts.

He reached for the sword at his side, unsheathing it from its scabbard. It was a legacy from Meredith, who had wielded it with ruthless efficiency. The blade glinted in the sunlight, its edges honed to razor sharpness. For a long moment, he held it aloft, feeling its weight in his hand. Then, without a word, he cast the sword overboard, watching as it disappeared beneath the waves.