1. 1: Only the Best and Brightest (1/2)
one
only the best and
ightest
"magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him…"
if it weren't for the helmet he adorned, cullen would have surely had his ears clapped for yawning during the evening recitation of the chant of light. after a long day of praying, standing around, guarding, praying, observing, trying to look intimidating to the mages, and oh yes of course, more praying, it was hardly unexpected that listening to the chantry sister would cause him to think of his bed.
oh no, maker, he hadn't meant it like that, and blushed furiously at the thought. it was only that the droning chant exhausted him to no end, and after years of study and training, he could practically quote it in his sleep – and quite often did, if his fellow
others in the templar order were to be believed. like true
others, they often enjoyed playing the occasional prank or telling false stories just to liven things up in the dreary tower, so whether this was indeed true was an unknown.
cullen grimaced at his own incessant disinterest, again silently grateful for the cover his full helmet provided. narrowing his eyes and straining his ears, the young man forced himself to get through this properly. andraste would not be pleased with him, were he to ignore his evening prayers in favour of idle thought...
"…shall be named maleficar, accursed ones.they shall find no rest in this worldor beyond."
"so let it be," he chanted along with his many
others from the back of the room. his superiors and the higher echelons of the circle of magi in kinloch hold were near the front, all of them on their knees before the woman, whose arms were raised as she blessed those in attendance.
"all men are the work of our maker's hands,from the lowest slavesto the highest kings.those who
ing harmwithout provocation to the least of his childrenare hated and accursed by the maker."
now came the verses to balance out the ones previous. humbling himself, cullen relaxed as he continued to kneel, hands resting one atop the other in reverence. above all, it was imperative that he always remember never to harm a mage in his care without just cause. be always watchful, be always wary, but be also gracious and merciful, as the maker would.
taking a deep
eath, he looked up just as he was nudged by the man next to him, who had at some point during cullen's musings removed his helmet. it had come time for their draught, a tranquil standing statuesque at the end of their row, his tray neatly arrayed with small doses of lyrium. one by one, the
others passed them down the line until each templar had in his hand the lifeblood of their order, of what made them strong, steadfast, and true.
"all things in this world are finite.what one man gains, another has lost.those who steal from their
others and sistersdo harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind.our maker sees this with a heavy heart."
"so let it be," they all mumbled in unison, heads bowed over their cups.
"take heart, children of the maker of all, and drink," the sister permitted. as one, all templars present in the hall raised the lyrium to their lips and downed the glowing liquid like much-needed medicine. though he had to admit it tasted awful, cullen immediately felt a wave of calm wash over him. the lyrium's effects should have contributed to his exhaustion, but surprisingly, it usually accomplished the exact opposite. he felt rejuvenated, relieved, as if he'd felt the presence of angels beside him, giving him the strength and the submissiveness to do anything asked of him…
the chant of light was put to rest for the day. if the sister recited every word of it, she would be up there for weeks without rest before finally finishing. yet despite all that material to work with, somehow it always circled back to the canticle of transfigurations… no pun intended, he thought dismissively as the sister slowly walked the length of the aisle, gently swinging her
ass incense burner to cleanse their souls before then allowing them to depart quietly.
resting his helmet beneath an arm, he fell in beside his
others, automatically rising to make for their quarters and catch a well-earned, good night's rest.
"a word, knight cullen," the knight-captain nodded, catching his lumbering attention. wordlessly, he was led from the others to the corner of the cold stone chamber, his features blank and slightly glazed over as the senior officer pursed his lips, staring at him critically.
had he been heard yawning, regardless of not being seen? oh maker's
eath, surely he hadn't been so careless! although his mind raced with nervous thoughts flitting to and fro behind his eyes, cullen remained alert and steady, suddenly remembering to salute through the lyrium haze.
satisfied that he had been properly addressed, the knight-captain saluted in turn and relaxed, thereby allowing cullen to also be at ease – at least outwardly.
"i have a sneaking suspicion it slipped your mind today, knight, but i'm afraid i must remind you of your duties."
had he possessed the ability to furrow a
ow, cullen surely would have done so. instead he stared forward, trying his best to recall what he had apparently forgotten. "i have… guard duty at the tower entrance," he slowly remembered through the fog clouding his mind. as the words left his lips, a part of him crumbled, yearning for nothing more after the monotony of his day than the dreamless slumber only lyrium could provide. instead though, the draught had given him new life, and he took the news in stoic silence.
having caught on, though, the man smirked and laid a hand on the junior templar's armoured shoulder. "believe me," he sympathized, knowing that he could get away with such things while cullen was somewhat incapacitated, "i know how you feel, my boy. there are far better places we'd rather be than staring at an unwavering door for four hours straight, but we all must sacrifice equally. it's your turn, cullen. it won't be so bad, and time will pass quickly; you know that. besides, it'll be an easy shift. nothing interesting ever happens here," the knight-captain smiled, patting his pauldron before joining the others in their sleepy departure.
moved to obedience, cullen wordlessly complied, peering down at the helmet in his hands before placing it back over his head.
"duty calls," a voice from behind him rumbled. turning on his heel, he came face-to-face with his commanding officer, knight-commander greagoir. after cullen instinctively saluted, the knight-commander glibly returned the gesture, his helmet resting under his arm casually. "you're with me tonight, cullen. i'll meet you there once i have a word with first enchanter irving about our agenda for tomorrow."
"yes, ser. thank you, ser," cullen replied in a flat monotone. he noticed the irksome twitch on greagoir's lip as he'd spoken the elderly mage's name, but knew better than to mention it, instead turning to make his way through the halls on his own.
the two men were not exactly tolerant of one another, though at times the respect they held for the other's position was apparent. not today, however. they had suffered setbacks after an apprentice nearly burned down the li
ary with a spell that went awry two days prior, and the clean-up was taking longer than anticipated. irving was adamant that his pupils be allowed to study around the tranquil as they tidied, and greagoir had argued that if it hadn't been for the unskilled pupils, this wouldn't be an issue in the first place. both had concerns, but rarely if ever gave ground in a confrontation.
all these lifeless recollections ticked off in his mind like a metronome, his boot steps marking the time perfectly against the stone floor. stone as far as the eye could see. cold, ancient, protective walls… he was confident enough to call them home, now. only three years had cullen lived here, but they were years of discipline, diligence, and righteous determination. he would serve the order in any capacity they deemed necessary. and tonight, he would serve as guard to the most protected door in all the hold.
at least the knight-captain was right: nothing interesting ever happened here.
and he was at least satisfied with that knowledge.
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