Rite of the Maleficarum

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

For Fenris, it always seemed to come back to blood magic. If there was a mage involved, so was the filthy practice. He had met one mage that he honestly believed would have never resorted to it: Hawke's sister Bethany. However, Fenris had watched that pure soul die in Hawke's arms in the Deep Roads, infected by the taint. It is said that the first darkspawn were created due to the sin of the blood magic-wielding Tevinter magisters. In a way, Fenris supposed, blood magic killed Bethany. Inescapable.

To be fair, this mission had it from the beginning. Fenris knew Hawke would never stand for it, she had always been adamantly against the use of such magics. But things were not always as they seemed, and this situation was leading deeper and deeper down the road of blood magic with every turn. Something dangerous hovered right below the surface, but Fenris couldn't put his finger on it. His history with the practice was… thorough, to say the least, but this situation seemed different. As he followed Hawke, Anders and Sebastian down the steps of the docks toward their exit to the Wounded Coast, he couldn't shake a feeling of unease. This was something much bigger than it appeared.

They approached the gates that lead to the Wounded Coast, and the four gave a nod to the guardsmen on post. They passed through the gates, revealing a misty late afternoon haze settling on the rocky shores of the Waking Sea. Fenris always enjoyed this view of the coast; from this high of an angle it looked far less intimidating than the reality. A series of winding sandy paths lead through sharp rocky outcroppings, behind which bandits, maleficar, and Tal-Vashoth would be lurking. An elaborate maze of tunnels and caves underneath only added to the danger and uncertainty. However, they had braved the Wounded Coast many times over the last four years, while resolving one problem or another, and in this case familiarity bred confidence. They made their way down the steep hill, a veined combination of rocky dirt and clean white sand. Beyond earshot of the guard, Hawke stopped the group.

"So, after speaking with our contacts at the Chantry, Sebastian and I were able to gather enough information to lead us here. We don't know much, at all, but the lay-brother we spoke with insisted that all he knew was that Ansor had asked if he had heard of a place called Slaver's Reach."

"He wasn't in much of a position to lie, considering the potential trouble we could cause him if we told the Grand Cleric of his gold making ventures," Sebastian pointed out, still somewhat abashed.

"What was he paying him for?" Fenris asked.

"To inform him of his mother's comings and goings from the Chantry. I don't really understand why he wanted to know, or if it's relevant, but that's the extent of what we know. And that Ansor was speaking with a one of the sisters regarding a troublesome conflict in his life, but we don't know what," Hawke said.

"Probably the whole - I'm a mage, no a templar, no a mage - thing," Anders attempted a quip.

"This man is a mage?" Sebastian exclaimed, turning to Hawke, who guilty bit her lip.

"He's a Lord's son, I was trying to keep as quite about it as possible. I wanted to wait till we were out of the city to tell you."

"So, just to be clear, this man was a brother in the Chantry for almost ten years, then became a templar, which he has been for almost another ten years?" Sebastian posed, Hawke nodded in agreement.

"And he's a mage," Anders clarified, as if the point hadn't been made.

"Hawke, that's terrible! The Chantry is supposed to be a place of refuge for those who need it, a place to heal and grow, not to hide noble-born mages! And right within a hare's breath of the circle, it's shameful," Sebastian was getting upset.