Red lyrium. It did not bode well for whatever was happening among the Templars. Marceline had read the reports from Kirkwall, of Meredith's madness and the presence of a red lyrium idol. Not only that, but the reports from the site of the Conclave likewise spoke of veins of it rising from the ground. Whatever it was, it seemed as if it followed disaster, and the news that it was now among the Templars sat ill with her. Marceline did not let it reveal on her face however, the only hint of her wariness a glance at Larissa. There was an imperceptible nod, and Larissa's eyes tilted upward behind her avian mask to the tops of the fort's walls, keeping an eye out for any unseen danger.
"Lady Herald," Marceline said, signalling that Estella be the first to follow behind SĂ©verine. She nodded, breaking from the roughly even line theyâd had before and stepping into place behind their guide.
The templar woman led them inside, the cramped and purposefully uncomfortable space of the path between gates opening up into a much wider courtyard. The rocky paths paved between the structures in the fortress were mostly overgrown by grass and weeds, though a clear training area had been carved out, with practice dummies for archers along the base of the walls, and sparring rings set aside. Currently they saw only light use, as most of the Order were clearly on edge, besieged as they were by an army of frills and fancy masks. As they drew further in, a small group of templar recruits and scribes began to gather, to observe the scene.
"The Lord Seeker has a request, I'm afraid, before you are to meet him," SĂ©verine said, her tone already apologetic. She led the group to a row of three wooden cranks set into the ground, each one placed before large red flags affixed to the inner face of the stone wall. The left flag depicted a sunburst, symbol of the Maker, the center flag a lion, symbol of the people, and the right flag a flaming sword, symbol of the templars. "He would like for the Herald of Andraste to complete the Rite of the Standards. My Lady Herald is to raise the flags, each to a different level, so that the Lord Seeker might know in which order you honor them."
Estella looked immediately uncomfortable, eyeing the standards with apprehension. Her posture seemed to deflate slightly, which was saying something considering how modest it was to begin with. âIâm supposed to⊠rank them? Will he refuse to see us if the answer is wrong?â Her brows knit over her eyes, her mouth turning down into a pronounced frown.
SĂ©verine shook her head immediately. "There's no wrong answer here. Obviously all three of these are of great importance. Among the templars our choices vary greatly. It simply offers insight into the mind, shows a bit of who you are. Supposedly." By her tone, SĂ©verine did not take the greatest of stock in this Rite. Still, she did not seem disrespectful of it, simply not reverent.
"Do not worry, Lady Herald," Marceline began firmly. "Simply answer as you would ordinarily. The Lord Seeker would dare not turn us away," she said. Though she personally found the rite to be silly, they should not risk offending the Lord Seeker and his Templars by refusing to complete it.
Estellaâs lips thinned, but she nodded, returning her attention to the standards themselves. Watching her gather herself was a visual process composed of obvious stages. With a breath inward, she straightened her spine and pulled her shoulders back. When she moved forwards, it was almost assured in appearance, though someone with eyes as practiced as Marcyâs knew false bravado when they saw it, and it was clear that the young woman drew it around herself like her cloak, even as she reached up and pushed the hood of her physical one down.
She paused in front of the cranks, apparently contemplative for all of a moment before she shook her head, dismissing whatever internal suggestion she must have posited to herself. Unerringly, she reached for the center crank, lofting the standard of the people to the highest position. It would seem that no two of them were allowed to remain on the same level, because the one belonging to the Maker slid to the bottom, while the flaming sword of the templars remained in the middle. After a moment, Estella turned back around.
âThatâs it. Thatâs the order I choose.â Her voice was soft, but a thread of firmness kept it from qualifying as meek by any stretch.
SĂ©verine nodded in return, not displaying any obvious judgement of the Herald's decision. "It's tradition for any participant in the Rite to explain their choice to the witnesses. It is, however, a choice and not a requirement."
Estellaâs eyes dropped to the ground for a moment, but she forced them back up again. When she spoke, it was loud enough to be heard by those that were paying attention, though no louder than that. âI know only a little of honor,â she said, a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth, as though she remembered something fondly. âBut what I do know is that it is service by those who can do what needs to be done, freely given to those who cannot. It is, I think, the Inquisitionâs duty and its honor, then, to act in service, first and foremost of those without our resources and our strength.â
The fleeting smile faded. âAnd the templars are people, too. Fewer, and perhaps more capable of defending themselves, but people nevertheless. If what we are meant to do is protect and serve those who must be protected, well⊠I hardly think the Maker should need our help, and whether we honor him or not is nothing I can decide.â The explanation, brief as it was, seemed to exhaust her present reserves of courage, because she ducked her head and returned to the group of the others immediately afterwards.
"The honesty's all well and good," Abernache put forth, his arms crossed, "but no thought given to impressing the Lord Seeker? Why bother at all? We're here to bring these templars to heel, are we not?" SĂ©verine's glare at the man could've cut glass, but thankfully his mask cut off his peripherals enough for him not to notice. Her irritated sigh, however, was quite audible.
"I thank the Maker the Inquisition has a bit more heart than its noble support. I trust the Herald's intent here is more than just rounding up swords for an army." Abernache turned, stepping forward to be face to face with the woman.
"My intent is to deal with people who matter. You armored louts are wasting the Inquisition's time, and mine. Unacceptable!"
SĂ©verine took a carefully controlled breath, obviously reminding herself not to bludgeon the man. "You need not worry about impressing the Lord Seeker, regardless." She stepped around Abernache, carefully, as though she did not desire to accidentally make contact with him, and drew closer to Estella and the others of her party. Though her focus was centered on the Herald alone.
"You should know that the Lord Seeker seems only to want to meet you. Not your Inquisition. You. By name. I know not why, but he's been utterly fixated on you since your lovely horde of nobles arrived."
A soft laugh echoed from under Vesryn's helm, from where he stood at Estella's side like a sentinel, shield and spear in hand. The elf had a proud visage when fully armed and armored, and indeed, it wasn't actually clear at all that he was an elf at the moment. "Seems you've got an admirer." There was an undertone of sarcasm to the words, evidence that he didn't find the development all that amusing, or pleasing to hear.
Estella scoffed softly at that, half-amused, before returning her attention to SĂ©verine, whereupon she shifted awkwardly where she stood, shaking her head. âThat⊠canât be right. Maybe heâs just surprised we have so much support? I mean, Iâm kind ofâŠâ she gestured vaguely to herself, then pulled her hood back up over her hair.
âThe face of our present effort, yes.â Leon at least seemed to have little trouble deciphering what she meant, and she looked quite grateful for that, nodding. âAs skilled as heâs always been at getting to the heart of things, the Lord Seeker would not have failed to notice as much.â He appeared to be thinking quite hard about something, but whatever was going on in his head, he did not share for the moment.
Cyrus had taken up a scowl at some point during this part of the conversation, and wore it openly beneath his own hood. It wasnât terribly difficult to guess what part of this made him look so, but he kept his thoughts to himself as well, eyeing the path forward and inner parts of the castle with wary disdain. His hands disappeared beneath the folds of his cloak, removing another set of tells as to his intentions.
"Just thought I'd give you fair warning," SĂ©verine said, nodding. "Come on, we've delayed long enough. I'll take you to him now."
Marceline said nothing and kept her own features guarded, though she did offer a smile to Abernache when they met eyes for a moment. He may have been brusque in his approach, but the message he sent was loud and clear. The Inquisition and its allies would not be turned away. However, Marceline still made a mental note to speak with him after all is said and done. She glanced behind her to Larissa who pulled her eyes down from the rampart to give a curt shake of her head.
Soon, SĂ©verine led the small procession into a room with a table, no doubt where the negotiations were to take place. Lady Marceline chose to occupy a spot beside the Lord Abernache in order to better guide his furor. She took the moment to pull the hood away from her head and brush the few drops of rain that remained from her hair.
Estella also pulled her hood back down, though her hair was in nowhere near the neat state Marcyâs was. Clearly, the static and the weather had combined to thwart any attempts at looking especially put-together on her part, because several strands had slipped the grip of her plait, and stuck out in places, especially around her ears. She hesitated before stepping forward so as to be at a level with Lord Abernache and Marceline, appearing reluctant to stand too far in front of the other four and maintaining a distinct five feet from the nobleman. âIâm⊠not actually going to have to meet with the Lord Seeker by myself, am I?â She grimaced. âI really doubt Iâd be able to convince him of anything.â The question seemed to be directed at Marceline.
Marceline shook her head in the negative, "No, we will be with you during the negotiations," she answered. Though how much use they would be remained to be seen. From all that she had heard, the Lord Seeker seemed to be focused solely on the Herald which appeared strange, considering how easily he dismissed them in Val Royeaux. Perhaps their recent alliance with the mages changed his mind on the matter, and their newfound power managed to catch his eyes... Though that did not explain the focus on Estella.
"But you must remain strong, the Lord Seeker will notice if you flag," Marceline gently reminded. A man such as him could smell weakness, and he would not be afraid to press his advantage.
Estella nodded, her face resuming a relatively impassive expression. Before anyone could speak any further, the clank of armored boots followed by the sound of a door opening drew their attention to the left, where a man in armor more ornate than SĂ©verine's, including a prominently-winged helmet, had just entered the room, flanked by two other Templars. âYou were expecting the Lord Seeker,â he said without preamble. âHe sent me to die for you.â It was a strange turn of phrase, and Leon straightened perceptibly when it was uttered, his eyes narrowing.
"Knight Captain," Abernache said, attempting to approach the man. He only managed a step, however, before a gentle tug on his sleeve from Marceline bade him to keep his place. Like Leon, Marceline did not particularly enjoy how the situation was playing out, and she most definitely did not like the knight captain's body language. "Lord Esmeral Abernache. Honored," he continued with a bow, though at a much safer distance. "It is not unlike the second dispersal of the Reclaimed Dales." Marceline coughed, but said nothing.
"No doubt rank puts you above such things. A pity more people don't understand that," he said with a sharp glance at SĂ©verine. Apparently the Knight Captain's more ornate armor suggested to him that he was of a higher rank than SĂ©verine. Marceline made no move to correct him, and though her face was impassive as always, her hand rested on the hilt of her rapier.
The Knight-Captain chuckled, but the sound carried not even a faint hint of genuine mirth. âThis is the grand alliance the Inquisition offers?â He turned his eyes from Lord Abernache, clearly uninterested in dealing with him, and swept them over the rest of those assembled. Even behind the helmet, it was easy to tell that his gaze landed heavily on Estella.
There was a slight tic in her jaw, but she looked right into the eyeslit of the helmet. âWith respect, Knight-Captain, we understood that we were to be meeting the Lord Seeker.â
âYes, let me also extend my hand to the Lord Seeker, Knight-Captain.â Though now held back from approach by Marceline, Abernache seemed otherwise oblivious to the tension permeating the room.
Outside of the room, a dull roar started up, one that sounded like the din of an armed clash of some sort. Estellaâs eyes went wide, and Leon took a half-step forward before the Knight-Captain raised his voice to be heard over the commotion. âThe Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by arriving with purpose. It sowed too much dissent.â Cyrus stepped in front of his sister, and the telltale flicker of a barrier forming appeared in front of the hand he raised to chest-level.
âWhatâs going on out there?â Leon completed the motion heâd begun, moving to the side of the table. Perhaps it was only the fact that he drew no weapon that prevented any from being drawn on him.
âThey were all supposed to be changed. Now we must purge the questioning knights!â It took no more than that, and Leon surged forward, knocking the Knight-Captain to the ground by slamming an elbow into the space between his helmet and his breastplate. An arrow clanged off his armor, and the archer who had fired it took up the invective.
âThe Elder One is coming! No one will leave Therinfal who is not stained red!â
A low ranking templar attempted to run SĂ©verine through from behind, but she had her blade drawn and whirled about in time, blocking the sword aside and grabbing the young man's arm to twist. He shouted, at her mercy despite his flails. "Maker, you can't be serious," she said, looking under the recruit's hood. Red veins criss-crossed over his face, and his eyes were an even darker shade.
"The Elder One will--" His threat was cut off by SĂ©verine's sword slashing across his throat, and he collapsed to the ground. The Knight-Captain readied herself for the next that would attempt to purge her.
"No. The Elder One will not."
The gentle grip on Abernache's sleeve turned firm, and Marceline threw the Lord back and out of the way of an incoming arrow. "Larissa," Marceline called out as she freed her rapier from its sheath. "See to Lord Abernache," and wih that, the woman took a grip on the Lord and backed away from the rapidly ensuing melee.
Marceline for her part slipped in behind Vesryn, and more importantly, his shield. "May I borrow you for a moment?" she asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder and hunkered down behind him as she watched his flanks.
"As long as you need, my lady," the elf answered easily. A templar rebounded off of his shield, the blow met with perfect timing, and Vesryn's spear found the red-lyrium tainted woman's gut in the ensuing opening, dropping her to the ground in a heap.
"My thanks," Marceline said, her rapier slipping under the helmet of a templar who'd tried to approach them from the side.
Leon was surprisingly quick over ground, and had left the dropped Knight-Captain in favor of breaking an archerâs nose over his knee within seconds of the initial attack. The man howled, at least until the Seeker gripped his head in both hands and twisted, silencing him. He was midway through a lunge for the next when Estella called out over the noise. âCommander, behind you!â Apparently following up the warning with action, she drew her sword as she ran, clearing the table with a flying leap and bringing the saber down with both hands.
A ringing sound issued from contact with what had once been the Knight-Captainâs arm, though it was scarcely recognizable as such anymore. The outer half of each forearm was coated in red crystals, faintly glowing, and more jutted out from each elbow, like blades almost. More of it had grown in over parts of his neck, and his breastplate had cracked from the inside, half-useless now but hinting at more of the lyrium underneath. His eyes were a luminous, menacing red, and he backhanded Estella with speed not commonly found in ordinary men, and clearly more strength still, because she went from having rather solid footing to rolling on the ground half a dozen feet away, regaining her feet in a recovery maneuver.
Sheâd kept him busy long enough for Leon to readjust, however, and he grabbed for one of the Knight-Captainâs hands, twisting him around into what must have been some kind of joint-lock, placing himself behind the man and kicking out his knees from behind, taking him to the floor.
A cluster of the remaining templars to the right lurched under the force of a chain lightning spell, given no time to recover before Cyrus was suddenly right next to them, hacking into weak spots in their armor with a humming blue sword. His first hit nearly took the head right off one of them, but he didnât bother hacking twice, adjusting his feet fluidly and shoving the blade into the next oneâs armpit, the arterial blood making a faint hissing sound as it came in contact with the weapon. The third, recovered perhaps too quickly for the obvious impact of the spell, took a gout of fire to the face before she could prepare her smite, and fell with her compatriots.
âAt least we donât have to wonder when theyâre going to try and kill us anymore.â His tone was exceedingly dry.
The sound of a rapid barrage of blows followed, though the table blocked sight of everything in that direction save Leonâs head and shoulders, which moved vigorously enough to suggest that he was the cause. A great deal of cracking followed, and then the Seeker drew back further, his gauntlet speckled in bits of red stone, and slammed a fist down one last time, producing a deeper crunch, before he pushed himself back into a stand. It seemed to take him a moment to regain his bearings, and he shook his head a few times, blinking rapidly before refocusing on the rest of the group. Given that the rest of the templars that had been in the room were dead or close enough, he started picking little shards of red lyrium out of his armor without looking at them.
âWe need to find the Lord Seeker. With apologies, Lady Marceline, Lord Abernache, it seems that the diplomatic portion of this venture is over.â
Marceline took a glance at the carnage around around with a distasteful look in her eyes before she shook her head and turned toward her assistant. "Larissa, if you would be so kind as to escort the good Lord Abernache safely away from this place?" With a nod, Larissa took a gentle hold onto Abernache, who still seemed to be in a state of shock, and began to slowly guide him out.
"It does indeed seem that way Ser Leonhardt," Marceline said, her rapier lightly resting against her shoulder. "The Lord Seeker has much to answer for."
"Lady Herald," Marceline said, signalling that Estella be the first to follow behind SĂ©verine. She nodded, breaking from the roughly even line theyâd had before and stepping into place behind their guide.
The templar woman led them inside, the cramped and purposefully uncomfortable space of the path between gates opening up into a much wider courtyard. The rocky paths paved between the structures in the fortress were mostly overgrown by grass and weeds, though a clear training area had been carved out, with practice dummies for archers along the base of the walls, and sparring rings set aside. Currently they saw only light use, as most of the Order were clearly on edge, besieged as they were by an army of frills and fancy masks. As they drew further in, a small group of templar recruits and scribes began to gather, to observe the scene.
"The Lord Seeker has a request, I'm afraid, before you are to meet him," SĂ©verine said, her tone already apologetic. She led the group to a row of three wooden cranks set into the ground, each one placed before large red flags affixed to the inner face of the stone wall. The left flag depicted a sunburst, symbol of the Maker, the center flag a lion, symbol of the people, and the right flag a flaming sword, symbol of the templars. "He would like for the Herald of Andraste to complete the Rite of the Standards. My Lady Herald is to raise the flags, each to a different level, so that the Lord Seeker might know in which order you honor them."
Estella looked immediately uncomfortable, eyeing the standards with apprehension. Her posture seemed to deflate slightly, which was saying something considering how modest it was to begin with. âIâm supposed to⊠rank them? Will he refuse to see us if the answer is wrong?â Her brows knit over her eyes, her mouth turning down into a pronounced frown.
SĂ©verine shook her head immediately. "There's no wrong answer here. Obviously all three of these are of great importance. Among the templars our choices vary greatly. It simply offers insight into the mind, shows a bit of who you are. Supposedly." By her tone, SĂ©verine did not take the greatest of stock in this Rite. Still, she did not seem disrespectful of it, simply not reverent.
"Do not worry, Lady Herald," Marceline began firmly. "Simply answer as you would ordinarily. The Lord Seeker would dare not turn us away," she said. Though she personally found the rite to be silly, they should not risk offending the Lord Seeker and his Templars by refusing to complete it.
Estellaâs lips thinned, but she nodded, returning her attention to the standards themselves. Watching her gather herself was a visual process composed of obvious stages. With a breath inward, she straightened her spine and pulled her shoulders back. When she moved forwards, it was almost assured in appearance, though someone with eyes as practiced as Marcyâs knew false bravado when they saw it, and it was clear that the young woman drew it around herself like her cloak, even as she reached up and pushed the hood of her physical one down.
She paused in front of the cranks, apparently contemplative for all of a moment before she shook her head, dismissing whatever internal suggestion she must have posited to herself. Unerringly, she reached for the center crank, lofting the standard of the people to the highest position. It would seem that no two of them were allowed to remain on the same level, because the one belonging to the Maker slid to the bottom, while the flaming sword of the templars remained in the middle. After a moment, Estella turned back around.
âThatâs it. Thatâs the order I choose.â Her voice was soft, but a thread of firmness kept it from qualifying as meek by any stretch.
SĂ©verine nodded in return, not displaying any obvious judgement of the Herald's decision. "It's tradition for any participant in the Rite to explain their choice to the witnesses. It is, however, a choice and not a requirement."
Estellaâs eyes dropped to the ground for a moment, but she forced them back up again. When she spoke, it was loud enough to be heard by those that were paying attention, though no louder than that. âI know only a little of honor,â she said, a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth, as though she remembered something fondly. âBut what I do know is that it is service by those who can do what needs to be done, freely given to those who cannot. It is, I think, the Inquisitionâs duty and its honor, then, to act in service, first and foremost of those without our resources and our strength.â
The fleeting smile faded. âAnd the templars are people, too. Fewer, and perhaps more capable of defending themselves, but people nevertheless. If what we are meant to do is protect and serve those who must be protected, well⊠I hardly think the Maker should need our help, and whether we honor him or not is nothing I can decide.â The explanation, brief as it was, seemed to exhaust her present reserves of courage, because she ducked her head and returned to the group of the others immediately afterwards.
"The honesty's all well and good," Abernache put forth, his arms crossed, "but no thought given to impressing the Lord Seeker? Why bother at all? We're here to bring these templars to heel, are we not?" SĂ©verine's glare at the man could've cut glass, but thankfully his mask cut off his peripherals enough for him not to notice. Her irritated sigh, however, was quite audible.
"I thank the Maker the Inquisition has a bit more heart than its noble support. I trust the Herald's intent here is more than just rounding up swords for an army." Abernache turned, stepping forward to be face to face with the woman.
"My intent is to deal with people who matter. You armored louts are wasting the Inquisition's time, and mine. Unacceptable!"
SĂ©verine took a carefully controlled breath, obviously reminding herself not to bludgeon the man. "You need not worry about impressing the Lord Seeker, regardless." She stepped around Abernache, carefully, as though she did not desire to accidentally make contact with him, and drew closer to Estella and the others of her party. Though her focus was centered on the Herald alone.
"You should know that the Lord Seeker seems only to want to meet you. Not your Inquisition. You. By name. I know not why, but he's been utterly fixated on you since your lovely horde of nobles arrived."
A soft laugh echoed from under Vesryn's helm, from where he stood at Estella's side like a sentinel, shield and spear in hand. The elf had a proud visage when fully armed and armored, and indeed, it wasn't actually clear at all that he was an elf at the moment. "Seems you've got an admirer." There was an undertone of sarcasm to the words, evidence that he didn't find the development all that amusing, or pleasing to hear.
Estella scoffed softly at that, half-amused, before returning her attention to SĂ©verine, whereupon she shifted awkwardly where she stood, shaking her head. âThat⊠canât be right. Maybe heâs just surprised we have so much support? I mean, Iâm kind ofâŠâ she gestured vaguely to herself, then pulled her hood back up over her hair.
âThe face of our present effort, yes.â Leon at least seemed to have little trouble deciphering what she meant, and she looked quite grateful for that, nodding. âAs skilled as heâs always been at getting to the heart of things, the Lord Seeker would not have failed to notice as much.â He appeared to be thinking quite hard about something, but whatever was going on in his head, he did not share for the moment.
Cyrus had taken up a scowl at some point during this part of the conversation, and wore it openly beneath his own hood. It wasnât terribly difficult to guess what part of this made him look so, but he kept his thoughts to himself as well, eyeing the path forward and inner parts of the castle with wary disdain. His hands disappeared beneath the folds of his cloak, removing another set of tells as to his intentions.
"Just thought I'd give you fair warning," SĂ©verine said, nodding. "Come on, we've delayed long enough. I'll take you to him now."
Marceline said nothing and kept her own features guarded, though she did offer a smile to Abernache when they met eyes for a moment. He may have been brusque in his approach, but the message he sent was loud and clear. The Inquisition and its allies would not be turned away. However, Marceline still made a mental note to speak with him after all is said and done. She glanced behind her to Larissa who pulled her eyes down from the rampart to give a curt shake of her head.
Soon, SĂ©verine led the small procession into a room with a table, no doubt where the negotiations were to take place. Lady Marceline chose to occupy a spot beside the Lord Abernache in order to better guide his furor. She took the moment to pull the hood away from her head and brush the few drops of rain that remained from her hair.
Estella also pulled her hood back down, though her hair was in nowhere near the neat state Marcyâs was. Clearly, the static and the weather had combined to thwart any attempts at looking especially put-together on her part, because several strands had slipped the grip of her plait, and stuck out in places, especially around her ears. She hesitated before stepping forward so as to be at a level with Lord Abernache and Marceline, appearing reluctant to stand too far in front of the other four and maintaining a distinct five feet from the nobleman. âIâm⊠not actually going to have to meet with the Lord Seeker by myself, am I?â She grimaced. âI really doubt Iâd be able to convince him of anything.â The question seemed to be directed at Marceline.
Marceline shook her head in the negative, "No, we will be with you during the negotiations," she answered. Though how much use they would be remained to be seen. From all that she had heard, the Lord Seeker seemed to be focused solely on the Herald which appeared strange, considering how easily he dismissed them in Val Royeaux. Perhaps their recent alliance with the mages changed his mind on the matter, and their newfound power managed to catch his eyes... Though that did not explain the focus on Estella.
"But you must remain strong, the Lord Seeker will notice if you flag," Marceline gently reminded. A man such as him could smell weakness, and he would not be afraid to press his advantage.
Estella nodded, her face resuming a relatively impassive expression. Before anyone could speak any further, the clank of armored boots followed by the sound of a door opening drew their attention to the left, where a man in armor more ornate than SĂ©verine's, including a prominently-winged helmet, had just entered the room, flanked by two other Templars. âYou were expecting the Lord Seeker,â he said without preamble. âHe sent me to die for you.â It was a strange turn of phrase, and Leon straightened perceptibly when it was uttered, his eyes narrowing.
"Knight Captain," Abernache said, attempting to approach the man. He only managed a step, however, before a gentle tug on his sleeve from Marceline bade him to keep his place. Like Leon, Marceline did not particularly enjoy how the situation was playing out, and she most definitely did not like the knight captain's body language. "Lord Esmeral Abernache. Honored," he continued with a bow, though at a much safer distance. "It is not unlike the second dispersal of the Reclaimed Dales." Marceline coughed, but said nothing.
"No doubt rank puts you above such things. A pity more people don't understand that," he said with a sharp glance at SĂ©verine. Apparently the Knight Captain's more ornate armor suggested to him that he was of a higher rank than SĂ©verine. Marceline made no move to correct him, and though her face was impassive as always, her hand rested on the hilt of her rapier.
The Knight-Captain chuckled, but the sound carried not even a faint hint of genuine mirth. âThis is the grand alliance the Inquisition offers?â He turned his eyes from Lord Abernache, clearly uninterested in dealing with him, and swept them over the rest of those assembled. Even behind the helmet, it was easy to tell that his gaze landed heavily on Estella.
There was a slight tic in her jaw, but she looked right into the eyeslit of the helmet. âWith respect, Knight-Captain, we understood that we were to be meeting the Lord Seeker.â
âYes, let me also extend my hand to the Lord Seeker, Knight-Captain.â Though now held back from approach by Marceline, Abernache seemed otherwise oblivious to the tension permeating the room.
Outside of the room, a dull roar started up, one that sounded like the din of an armed clash of some sort. Estellaâs eyes went wide, and Leon took a half-step forward before the Knight-Captain raised his voice to be heard over the commotion. âThe Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by arriving with purpose. It sowed too much dissent.â Cyrus stepped in front of his sister, and the telltale flicker of a barrier forming appeared in front of the hand he raised to chest-level.
âWhatâs going on out there?â Leon completed the motion heâd begun, moving to the side of the table. Perhaps it was only the fact that he drew no weapon that prevented any from being drawn on him.
âThey were all supposed to be changed. Now we must purge the questioning knights!â It took no more than that, and Leon surged forward, knocking the Knight-Captain to the ground by slamming an elbow into the space between his helmet and his breastplate. An arrow clanged off his armor, and the archer who had fired it took up the invective.
âThe Elder One is coming! No one will leave Therinfal who is not stained red!â
A low ranking templar attempted to run SĂ©verine through from behind, but she had her blade drawn and whirled about in time, blocking the sword aside and grabbing the young man's arm to twist. He shouted, at her mercy despite his flails. "Maker, you can't be serious," she said, looking under the recruit's hood. Red veins criss-crossed over his face, and his eyes were an even darker shade.
"The Elder One will--" His threat was cut off by SĂ©verine's sword slashing across his throat, and he collapsed to the ground. The Knight-Captain readied herself for the next that would attempt to purge her.
"No. The Elder One will not."
The gentle grip on Abernache's sleeve turned firm, and Marceline threw the Lord back and out of the way of an incoming arrow. "Larissa," Marceline called out as she freed her rapier from its sheath. "See to Lord Abernache," and wih that, the woman took a grip on the Lord and backed away from the rapidly ensuing melee.
Marceline for her part slipped in behind Vesryn, and more importantly, his shield. "May I borrow you for a moment?" she asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder and hunkered down behind him as she watched his flanks.
"As long as you need, my lady," the elf answered easily. A templar rebounded off of his shield, the blow met with perfect timing, and Vesryn's spear found the red-lyrium tainted woman's gut in the ensuing opening, dropping her to the ground in a heap.
"My thanks," Marceline said, her rapier slipping under the helmet of a templar who'd tried to approach them from the side.
Leon was surprisingly quick over ground, and had left the dropped Knight-Captain in favor of breaking an archerâs nose over his knee within seconds of the initial attack. The man howled, at least until the Seeker gripped his head in both hands and twisted, silencing him. He was midway through a lunge for the next when Estella called out over the noise. âCommander, behind you!â Apparently following up the warning with action, she drew her sword as she ran, clearing the table with a flying leap and bringing the saber down with both hands.
A ringing sound issued from contact with what had once been the Knight-Captainâs arm, though it was scarcely recognizable as such anymore. The outer half of each forearm was coated in red crystals, faintly glowing, and more jutted out from each elbow, like blades almost. More of it had grown in over parts of his neck, and his breastplate had cracked from the inside, half-useless now but hinting at more of the lyrium underneath. His eyes were a luminous, menacing red, and he backhanded Estella with speed not commonly found in ordinary men, and clearly more strength still, because she went from having rather solid footing to rolling on the ground half a dozen feet away, regaining her feet in a recovery maneuver.
Sheâd kept him busy long enough for Leon to readjust, however, and he grabbed for one of the Knight-Captainâs hands, twisting him around into what must have been some kind of joint-lock, placing himself behind the man and kicking out his knees from behind, taking him to the floor.
A cluster of the remaining templars to the right lurched under the force of a chain lightning spell, given no time to recover before Cyrus was suddenly right next to them, hacking into weak spots in their armor with a humming blue sword. His first hit nearly took the head right off one of them, but he didnât bother hacking twice, adjusting his feet fluidly and shoving the blade into the next oneâs armpit, the arterial blood making a faint hissing sound as it came in contact with the weapon. The third, recovered perhaps too quickly for the obvious impact of the spell, took a gout of fire to the face before she could prepare her smite, and fell with her compatriots.
âAt least we donât have to wonder when theyâre going to try and kill us anymore.â His tone was exceedingly dry.
The sound of a rapid barrage of blows followed, though the table blocked sight of everything in that direction save Leonâs head and shoulders, which moved vigorously enough to suggest that he was the cause. A great deal of cracking followed, and then the Seeker drew back further, his gauntlet speckled in bits of red stone, and slammed a fist down one last time, producing a deeper crunch, before he pushed himself back into a stand. It seemed to take him a moment to regain his bearings, and he shook his head a few times, blinking rapidly before refocusing on the rest of the group. Given that the rest of the templars that had been in the room were dead or close enough, he started picking little shards of red lyrium out of his armor without looking at them.
âWe need to find the Lord Seeker. With apologies, Lady Marceline, Lord Abernache, it seems that the diplomatic portion of this venture is over.â
Marceline took a glance at the carnage around around with a distasteful look in her eyes before she shook her head and turned toward her assistant. "Larissa, if you would be so kind as to escort the good Lord Abernache safely away from this place?" With a nod, Larissa took a gentle hold onto Abernache, who still seemed to be in a state of shock, and began to slowly guide him out.
"It does indeed seem that way Ser Leonhardt," Marceline said, her rapier lightly resting against her shoulder. "The Lord Seeker has much to answer for."