Sisters of Tevinter

Val Royeaux

    Two days passed in similar fashion. The companions spoke little, and when they did it was mostly when they passed rations around the fire. Soon, they had crossed the border of Ferelden into Orlais. 

     Shortly after, they reached Orlais' rich and beautiful capital. Guards with puff sleeves and silver helmets opened the wrought steel gates off the cobblestone roadways. Inside was a vast complex of layers, ornate marble bridges and brightly painted buildings of every color and shape. Flowers and potted plants hung from every available surface. Merchants and residents wore ornate masks and thick silks with absurd patterns. 

      The whole city was like some kind of surreal pastry puff, and would have seemed fascinatingly innocent and lovely if some of the masks weren't so disturbingly protruding and there hadn't been a massive gallows constructed along the courtyard. 

        Jor swallowed. 

      People whispered as she and her companions passed, taking notice of the Seeker's eye on Cassandra's armor and the elven mage. Some even recognized Jormungandr and either fell to their knees in prayer or scuttled aside, grumbling under their breath. The sun shone warmly here, brightly, mercilessly and Jor was starting to sweat under her scarf. 

       A clear voice was addressing a small crowd from a dais across the fountain in the courtyard. "The templars protect us. We have the promises of the chantry and the strength of our faith! Fear not the Inquisition and its lies!" 

        A sister of the chantry stood at the highest step of the platform, dressed in white, sallow face zealous. 

         "Oh boy, just in time," Varric murmured, elbowing Jor. Cassandra gritted her teeth and folded her arms. 

         "We are solid in our beliefs, we do not conquer those weaker than us, we do not obsess over the gatherings of magic! People of Orlais, hear me!" Some of the crowd was murmuring and nodding. Solas raised a single brow, but Jor could sense a sudden forbidding air around him. It almost concerned her more than the gallows. 

           She leaned against a marble pillar to rest her aching legs and folded her arms. "I hope you do not refer to the Inquisition when you speak of conquerors and obsession. Sounds a little more like missionaries, doesn't it?" She had raised her voice, and surprised herself in how strongly it resonated through the courtyard. 

           People turned to stare, as did the sister. She sneered. "Lo and behold-  Invoke the name of darkness and it shall rear its ugly head." 

           "Have we stooped so low as to insult each others' faces, sister?" Jor grinned. There was a fire to it, and she thought to herself she could enjoy the attention as the cleric glowered. 

            "I had hoped to avoid such things," the sister spat. "Have you come to kill me, blasphemer? Has your false mark emboldened you?" 

            Jor smiled softly. I thought about it. "Of course not, sister. I have great respect for the clerics of the Chantry. Some of you do good work. I just wish we could see eye to eye. Preferably through the eye of the Inquisition." She gestured at Cassandra. "Before you stands a Seeker, an ally of the templars you praise. She is beside me in this, loyal to her faith. If memory serves, I have never claimed to be holy."

             The crowd rippled with whispers, some of the noblemen looked downright confused. Cassandra frowned, but did not refute this. Maker, I hope I'm doing this right. She glanced at Varric, who smiled and waggled his hand in a gesture of 'so-so.' Jor's confidence was bolstered. If he had hope enough to joke, she couldn't be failing miserably. 

            "Pah!" the sister shook her head violently and gestured to Jor's companions in perfunctory disgust. "You retract the statements of your people. Take your Seekers and knife ears- you are not welcome here!" 

            Solas bristled. Fury filled Jor's mouth with venom as Cassandra stepped forward. Luckily, she did not have the chance to spit her anger and say anything too damaging before there was a great clanging of plate mail. The gates swung open and a small army of armored men marched through. 

            "Ah, at last!" the sister cried, reverent. "The true guardians of the mortal world! Templars, remove these blasphemous br-" 

             The leader stomped up the dais and struck a gauntleted fist across the back of the sister's skull. The crowd erupted in gasps, a lady screamed. Jor straightened, fighting the urge to melt into the shade. Cassandra's eyes were wide. The sister dropped. 

              Jor fought a bought of incredulous laughter, her mouth split into a wide grin. "You beat me to it."

              The templar did not smile. He did not even blink. "How dare she speak for us." 

             "Lord Seeker Lucius!" Cassandra gasped. He looked at her without recognition. The crowd was scattering, apparently unwilling to face their so called "guardians." 

              "You know this guy?" Varric asked, grimacing. 

               "He was elected after the death of Seeker Lambert- I've worked with him before. Perhaps he will offer us aid-"

               Lucius was approaching them, scowling. A dark skinned man in resplendent armor trotted after him. The Lord Seeker laid a hand on his sword, glaring at Jor with an imperious air. "So. This is the so called Herald of Andraste." 

                Something was very wrong with him, Jor could sense it. It was as if the man was made of marble, animated only by the faintest air of hostility. As if he were only as shell of something much, much worse- like a giant snakeskin laying across the path. She held his dark, lifeless gaze and steeled herself, raising a single, assessing eyebrow. "So they tell me." 

                "Hm. I would have expected someone taller." He turned away, without so much as a glance at the others. "Templars! Move out!" 

                "You- you are leaving Val Royeaux?" Cassandra sputtered. 

                "The Chantry is incompetent. I will not waste manpower on a city full of half wits and wealthy posturers." 

               The dark skinned man was studying Jor with a kind of pleading curiosity. "But sir, if she is-" 

               "You're abandoning these people?" Jor scowled. They were assholes, sure, but they seemed harmless enough. There had to be children here. Women, merchants- What if some power mad apostate or troupe of wandering demons attacked the capital? 

                Seeker Lucius cast her a dead eyed glower. "We're done here." 

                "But sir-" his companion began. 

                "Silence." The Templars were already on the march, filing out of the grand gates of the city. People watched them go, masks unable to conceal their expressions of terror and various degrees of despair. Lucius turned to follow them. His corporal gave the companions an apologetic look and hurried after him. 

                 "Well that went well," Varric scoffed with an incredulous laugh. 

                  "Lucius is a man of reason- he would never do this unprovoked." Cassandra shook her head, looking stricken. 

                  "Reason my ass," Jor muttered, pushing off of her marble column and turning her back on the nuns helping their sister to her feet and the tail end of the last armored templar at the gates. Their booted footsteps still echoed around the courtyard. Val Royeaux was very quickly becoming her least favorite place she'd ever visited.