Inliberalis Excipio Secundus

"Finally…"

Elisa's grateful sigh was accompanied by a great deal of exuberant barking as Alfonse and Triss bounded along the length of the vessel and leapt onto the pier. They then turned around and looked expectantly back at the boat, tails wagging excitedly, as if it were completely out of character for their humanoid companions not to follow after them, expecting them to do so at a moment's notice.

The sound of wood-on-wood soon followed after the mabari, as the gang-plank was lowered to allow the rest of the crew an easier descent.

Elisa was first off after the man who secured the bottom of the walkway, slowly crouching down until she could comfortably drop to her knees, where she promptly prostrated herself on the almost petrified planks of the pier. Erik disembarked shortly after her, unable to hide a smile at his sister's antics. "Now, now Sister. We were aboard for barely half a day. Surely your stomach could handle the calmness of a lake ?"

"Nay, I have been felled," came her muffled response as Celestine also stepped ashore. "A most foul circumstance of unsteady grounds has rendered me low."

"I'm not sure if that would make any sense, even to Morrigan," Celestine teased as she crouched down where Elisa lay, treating Triss to some rougher petting. The hound seemed to revel in her affections, if its lolling tongue, wagging tail and attempts to lick Celestine's face were any indicators.

One of the better things that had happened at Redcliffe, had been Celestine's visit to the blacksmith. To say that the man was grateful for the rescue of his daughter, would have been an understatement. As a sign of his gratitude, Owen had offered to find something to replace Celestine's tattered robes. Using a lighter leather armour as a base, he had pieced together a surprisingly functional suit of armour that would not limit mobility. He had also roughly tailored the mage's old robes to create an almost tabard-like shawl, making the most of the Formari-enchanted fabric.

"Lies and slander of the foulest kind!" Elisa moaned from her position, weakly waving an arm. "I have been betrayed by my most trusted of friends. This plane of existence will not contain my sorrow. Farewell mortal body, I embrace the bliss of steady grounding."

Morrigan, it seemed, had elected to ignore the noble on the dock, instead dropping onto the wooden platform and walking to the end of the pier. She gazed over the lake as if expecting to find something amidst the small wavelets breaking up its surface. Alistair stood next to Erik, craning his head to look up at the tower whose shadow they found themselves in. Leliana was still aboard, discussing the merchant's payment.

"Warden, armed men approach." Sten's voice cut the joviality short. Nearly everyone had drawn their weapons before he continued, "They look to be of the Templars. They bear similar arms to those who imprisoned me." He sounded almost bored, the passionlessness of his tone as matter-of-fact as the ground Elisa had been praising mere moments before. Everyone relaxed slightly.

The trio of Templars who had appeared from the direction of the tower stopped where the pier met land. Celestine realised it was most likely to allow them to better control should a fight break out. It had surprised her to see how effective the tactic actually was in reality, compared to what she had pictured from the books. Fortunately, she had Erik and Alistair to point out if any such opportunities arose for themselves.

"Lower your arms and leave, travelers. The Circle is closed to all outsiders. Templar business," the man in the lead ordered, voice slightly muffled by his helmet. The one behind and to his left tapped him on a pauldron and murmured something which had him tensing up and drawing his sword. "There is an apostate among you. Hand them over lest you imperil yourselves."

Morrigan and Celestine's eyes met for a moment before the prior nodded discreetly and stepped just that bit more behind Sten. The latter stepped out from among the group, hands held out to the sides of her body and pointing at the floor.

"Calm yourselves, good sers. I may be a mage, but not an apostate. I am Celestine Amell, of the Grey Wardens, formerly of this very Circle."

"So you may claim, but what apostate does not subscribe to deceit?"

Celestine sighed; she had never encountered the suspicion of a Templar outside of the Circle before. Her logical mind understood the reasoning. Mages were people, with the same failings as all others. But with the power they wielded, the consequences of a "person's" actions when threatened were what the Templars had grown to represent…. There was merit to how Templars reacted to mages outside the Circles, but that behaviour in turn also gave mages an excuse to act as they did. The blame lay at the feet of history, and of those who chose to accept the same preconceptions as their predecessors, generation after generation.

"The First Enchanter and perhaps any mage of this Circle can vouch for the truth in my statement. I may have no claim to popularity here, but I was known."

"Such an endeavour would be a practice in futility. We cannot permit you access to any mage of the Tower."

The stubbornness of the Templars was beginning to wear on Celestine. While she had never attempted to actually leave the Circle during her stay there, she had never expected it to be more problematic to return.

"We are Grey Wardens," she enunciated slowly, "we have treatises binding all mages of the Circles to assist us in the defeating the Blight. The Wardens are an Order tied to the Chantry as well, if not controlled by it. You have no right to block our passage."

"Our orders are to prevent anyone from entering the Circle. Without proof, your claim to Warden status is as solid as mine is as the Empress of Orlais."

Alistair raised an eyebrow at that, and looked at the trio blocking their way as if assessing them. "Hmm, not that I'm an expert, but I'm not entirely sure you have the hips to pull off a dress."

Celestine hid her snicker just as much as Elisa did not.

"Warden," Sten's voice grumbled from behind, "we are wasting time here. Let us cut them down so we may recruit the bas-saarebas unhindered."

"Stand down Qunari; your pagan barbarism will not be tolerated here," the Templar spokesperson warned. Sten merely grunted.

Celestine was sure that if she did not contain her irritation, the Templars would soon be dancing on flames, but then an idea occurred to her. "Ser Templar, while you may dispute my authenticity as a Warden, there are those in authority who do not. If you will not step aside, I will be forced to administer the Right of Conscription, to order you aside. You may take that action up with Greagoir himself, to inform him of your leaving the Templar Order."

This time the Templars did not immediately dispute what she said. Celestine derived an odd sense of satisfaction when the leader turned around to discuss something with the two others. Finally they broke apart again, to address the group gathered on the pier. "Very well, you will be escorted to Knight-Commander Greagoir. He will ascertain what claim to business you have here.

Celestine nodded graciously, almost managing to suppress her smirk.

Leliana had by that point joined them, having completed the payment for their passage to the island. "I see our dear friend is becoming quite the diplomat," she teased as they made their way off the pier onto the cobbled road leading to the Circle.

"Yes!" Elisa crowed. "Please word-whip more Templars, Tina." Sidling up to the mage she continued more salaciously, "It's hella sexy."

The rogue simply laughed at Celestine's blush, clapping her on the shoulder before jogging on ahead to where a tree that stood beside a small ruined wall several hundred meters from the tower of Kinloch Hold itself. Triss and Alfonse barked happily and bounded after her.

Celestine found herself looking at Alistair, who had in turn been caught looking at her . Her embarrassed smile turned into a proper one when he looked away, rubbing at his neck the way he was wont to when uncomfortable. Something about his glances told her that he saw more than the abomination waiting to happen. More than a figurehead, whose identity is restricted to being a member of a mysterious organization.

Morrigan broke that train of thought swiftly, though.

"There is something amiss here," she stated, raven-like eyes scanning the Tower. "I had expected the Veil to be thin, but there is a malice here."

Celestine's attention turned to the apostate; the witch's tone was distant, clearly absorbed by whatever it was she was analysing. This was not Morrigan being deceitful, no, this was Morrigan concerned. If something concerned Morrigan, one whose mother claimed to be the Flemeth, well. It was something worthy of concern, if not all out panic.

The Warden mage looked at the tower itself. The weather was overcast, with the sky rapidly darkening, but the spire of white stone still stood clear, reaching to the clouds as if trying to pierce the heavens. She did not notice what Morrigan was talking about until she began tapping into the Fade. Doing so normally affected her senses, which would become hypersensitive, or...perhaps a better expression would be "parasensitive" for the duration that the lyrium inside her channeled her mana. Her vision would sharpen, and she would see things that may not be in the corporeal world. Hearing would gain an edge, as if a thick blanket wrapped around her head had been removed, letting her acknowledge the whispers of the Fade. Touch would intensify, until she could isolate each grain in the roughness of her staff's haft and the weave of her robes. Scents would magnify to a point that she would have to consciously separate one from another. Taste...well, there was a reason mages enjoyed good meals beyond meeting the demands that casting placed on their bodies.

She gasped when she saw it. The base of the building looked as it always had, with phantasmal shapes flickering in and out of existence, an invisible world, hidden behind the Veil. The whispers that hovered at the edge of hearing clamoured there, as they always had, There was also the noticeable muting any scents - an indication of how thin the Veil was. That she only became aware of how different this was to the rest of the outside world was an indicator of how perception ruled over all senses. But it was a sight familiar to Celestine, who had spent the better part of her life at the Circle; what shocked her were the higher floors of the building. It looked as if large dark clouds of entropic energy were gathered about it, suffocating it.

"Maker…."

"What? What is it?" Alistair asked, glancing up at the Tower himself.

"I...don't know. But something is very wrong here."

Celestine turned to her companions. "We cannot afford to send every Warden into a place from whence they may not emerge. Alistair will need to come, but I would prefer it if Elisa and Erik stayed outside this time as well. Sten and Morrigan will need to remain outside; we don't know how the Templars may react to either of you, and I'd prefer not to have another confrontation with them. Also, if I don't make it, at least there'll still be a mage with the party."

"I take it then, that I'll be coming with you?" Leliana asked.

"Yes, the arcane is best fought at a distance and as a former lay sister, you may know how to approach the Templars better in some capacities than I would."

"Oh, yes. I know how to approach Templars."

Erik cleared his throat, prompting Celestine to turn to him in query. "My sister will not be happy about this. She may take some convincing."

Amell nodded. "It's what I would expect of her, yet I know she's not unreasonable." She smiled, nodding over her shoulder, "but I shouldn't keep our friendly host waiting. Maker willing, we'll be back in a day or two. Any longer and you can check to see if anything can be salvaged. Otherwise head to Orzammar as planned."

Erik nodded solemnly, and went to follow his sister's path. Sten had already settled himself beneath the tree by the wall and Morrigan wandered off to the water's edge.

Bracing herself, Celestine turned around to follow the Templar impatiently shifting his weight. She dreaded what kind of homecoming it would turn out to be, as the voices from beyond the Veil altered ever more in tone as she neared the Tower.