The initiate

Miriam tentatively opened the door, her confidence waning as soon as she stepped into her father's quarters. Bann Albert Trevelyan was a man in his early sixties, his face marked by a stern expression and small, pale eyes, overshadowed by lush, overgrown eyebrows that reached down to his sideburns. He looked up from the papers on his desk, regarding Miriam with a quizzical expression, as if waiting for her to speak.

With the Bann's eyes on her, the young girl's heart quickened, and she crumpled the fabric of her housecoat with sweaty hands.

"Good day to you, father." She greeted him, her voice barely above a whisper. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I was wondering if you have been informed of the healer's verdict."

"Your mother has already notified me of this matter." Bann Trevelyan replied in a flat voice. His eyes never leaving her face, he continued, "She also mentioned that you wish to dedicate yourself to serving the Maker." Albert leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlocking as he spoke. "I support your decision to become a Sister in the Chantry. My brother Roland brought shame to our family by converting to the Qun. Your entry into the clergy will help to restore some of our damaged reputation."

As Miriam's heart swelled with relief, she found the courage to broach the subject of her future. She cleared her throat, looking intently at her father as she spoke. "Father, I am deeply grateful for your support in my decision to join the Chantry," she said, her voice steady despite her nerves. "I humbly request that you send me to the Ostwick Chantry as soon as possible, so that I may begin my journey towards serving the Maker."

A glint of approval appeared in Bann Albert's eyes as he studied his daughter's face. "Of course, my child," he said with a slight nod. "I will send a raven to Revered Mother Petra to inquire about your joining. I hope that you will serve the Maker with distinction and restore the honor that has been lost from our family." He then sighed, looking weary as he continued, "But for now, I have a great deal of work to attend to. You should return to your room."

"Thank you, father," Miriam said, her voice filled with reverence. She executed a quick curtsy before departing, making sure to quietly close the door behind her. The anticipation of her journey consumed her thoughts as she walked away.

Bann Trevelyan was a man of his word, and as soon as he received a positive answer from Revered Mother Petra, he immediately informed Miriam of her acceptance as an initiate. The young girl's heart was filled with hope, and her steps were light as she went about her daily routine of prayer, embroidery, and walks in the garden.

Finally, the day arrived. Miriam was a picture of excitement as she stood in front of a carriage loaded with her luggage, ready to begin her journey to the Ostwick Chantry. The amulet she always wore dangled around her neck as she stepped into the carriage. The amulet was a simple piece of jewelry, but it held great sentimental value for the girl. She was dressed in her usual attire, a simple dark blue dress with the Trevelyan crest neatly embroidered on the front. Her hair was arranged in a single braid laced with a blue ribbon, adding a touch of elegance to her overall appearance.

Only Lady Trevelyan, resplendent in a red gown of delicate silk, was there to bid her farewell. Her father and brothers were attending an important meeting and were unable to make it. Miriam was too eager to depart to be affected by their absence.

As she seated herself in the carriage, Lady Beatrice looked at her daughter with a hint of amusement.

"You seem to be so different today. Who knew my daughter could be more than a wallflower." She went on, "I expect you to seize every opportunity to enhance the prestige of the Trevelyan family. Do not disappoint me again."

"I will do my best." The girl replied obediently.

"I don't want your best, I want results, Miriam." Her mother's patience began to wear thin.

Desperate for the carriage to finally depart, Miriam proclaimed, "I promise to bring honor to the Trevelyan family name, mother."

"That's better," she answered, looking pleased. "Farewell, my daughter. May the Maker watch over you." Lady Beatrice lifted the hem of her dress slightly off the ground and walked away, not looking back even once.

The servants closed the doors of the carriage, the wheels creaking slightly as it set into motion. Miriam gazed out the window, watching her childhood home grow smaller and smaller in the distance. Her heart was filled with joy at the prospect of starting a new life, but a nagging fear lingered at the thought of leaving behind everything she had ever known.

Miriam leaned her head against the window of the carriage, feeling the vibrations of the horse's hooves and the creaking of the wheels on the cobblestone road. She had been traveling for hours, her body stiff and sore from the long journey. Despite her discomfort, she kept her eyes on the picturesque scenery as it passed by. Rolling hills dotted with wildflowers and tall trees, babbling streams, and quaint chalets. As she continued her journey, the scenery slowly began to change, giving way to a more rugged and wild landscape.

Finally, the carriage came to a stop, and Miriam stepped down from the coach, stretching her legs and taking in her surroundings. In front of her stood the Chantry of Ostwick, a massive complex of buildings and walls, surrounded by lush greenery. The stone walls of the Chantry loomed high above her, casting a shadow over the entire area.

As Miriam approached the gate, she was greeted by an elderly woman, who was far from the warm and comforting figure one might expect from a Chantry Mother. The woman carried herself with a cold detachment that was almost palpable. Her eyes were like ice chips, giving away nothing of her inner thoughts or feelings. Her voluptuous figure, squeezed tightly into her robes, made her belly protrude in an almost ridiculous way. The Mother's round face was marred by deep wrinkles, giving her the appearance of a raisin that had been left out in the sun for too long.

"Welcome, initiate," the old woman said in a deep voice. "I am Mother Lucia and I will be your mentor during your training."

Feeling small under the woman's stern demeanor, Miriam bowed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, honored Mother."

"Your luggage will not be needed," the woman informed her. "The Chantry will provide everything the initiate needs."

The girl nodded, looking around at the courtyard and gardens that surrounded the Chantry. When she heard the soft sounds of chanting coming from the nearby chapel, she felt a sense of peace wash over her.

"Follow me," Mother Lucia said, leading the way into the Chantry's complex.

Miriam followed closely behind, her eyes taking in the intricate carvings and frescoes that adorned the walls around her. As she and Mother Lucia made their way through the complex, the girl couldn't help but feel astonished at the sheer size and beauty of the Ostwick's Chantry. She couldn't wait to explore every corner of it.

Mother Lucia began to explain the purpose of each building they passed by. "This is the chapel," she said, "where we come to pray and offer our devotions to the Maker."

The chapel was a grand structure with high ceilings and intricate stained-glass windows depicting scenes from the Chant of Light. Miriam was awestruck. "It's so beautiful," she exclaimed.

The old woman sighed, "Obviously, the beauty of the Chantry is meant to inspire us to connect with the Maker."

As they continued walking, the Mother pointed out various other buildings. "This is the refectory where we have our meals and break bread together," she said, pointing to a large dining hall. "And over there is the scriptorium, where we make copies of the Chant of Light and record our histories." Miriam was impressed by the sight of rows of clerics bent over desks, painstakingly copying intricate illustrations and calligraphy.

They passed by a small garden, where a few Chantry Sisters were tending to the plants. "This is our herb garden," Mother Lucia explained. "We use the herbs to make medicines for those in need." Miriam was pleased by the practicality of the Chantry. It wasn't just a place of worship, but a community that served the people of Ostwick.

As they walked through the cloister, Mother Lucia pointed at the heavy closed door and explained, "This is the infirmary, where the elderly Templars are cared for, and where I live and perform my duties. Once you settle in and spend a few months studying basic skills, you will assist me in taking care of the retired Knights."

"I would love to look after the brave Knights of Our Lady," the girl said, beaming.

"Yes, yes," Mother Lucia muttered. "Let's move on."

As they approached the initiate's quarters, the old woman announced, "Here you will live and study to become a fully-fledged Chantry Sister." The initiate's quarters were a modest building, but it was clear that it was well-cared for. Miriam could hear the sounds of chatter coming from inside.

Mother Lucia opened the door and gestured for Miriam to follow her inside. As they entered the common room, several young women turned to look at them. Miriam could see the determination in their eyes.

"This is Miriam," the Mother introduced her, "the new initiate who will be joining us."

The women smiled, briefly greeted Miriam, and continued with their tasks. Then, Mother Lucia led her to the entrance of the quarter's dormitory, "Your bed is number seventeen, and all your belongings are inside the bag upon it." She gestured towards the wooden beds that filled the room, each with a carved number on its bedframe.

Miriam felt a wave of apprehension wash over her as she took in her new surroundings. The room was filled with simple wooden beds padded with straw and covered with old, coarse blankets. It was a far cry from the luxurious chambers she was accustomed to as a noble.

"In this bag you will also find a scroll outlining your duties for the first few months, together with a schedule of ceremonies, devotions, and meals in the Chantry," concluded Mother Lucia. Miriam nodded gratefully, feeling a sense of comfort in the detailed instructions. "Thank you. I will do my best to serve the Maker well."

In response, Mother Lucia merely grunted and walked away, leaving Miriam alone with her thoughts.

The girl made her way to bed number seventeen and found the bag that held her meager belongings.

The bag was made of old scraps of cloth, and when she opened it, she was greeted by a crumpled scroll, two worn linen shifts, a used Chantry robe that looked far too large for her, and a stained headscarf. Miriam's heart sank as she realized the harsh realities of her new life. However, she refused to let this discourage her. Clutching her amulet, she prayed to Andraste for the strength to adapt to her new circumstances. She knew it would be difficult, but she was determined to serve the Maker with all her heart.

Miriam hoped to find her true home in the Ostwick Chantry.