Chapter 63: Making a Deal

I spoke to Greagoir, Irving, Alim, Tanar, and the nameless templar. "There's more. Because it turns out that I am not a mage; I'm a templar. Without training, without Lyrium, and without the Chantry."

Tanar smiled slightly, and Irving nodded thoughtfully; Alim looked a little bit nervous, but glanced at Irving and the lack of panic seemed to calm him. By contrast, Greagoir jumped up from where he sat and spluttered loudly. I sat quietly and watched, amused by his shock. Irving glanced at my face, and I could see him suppress a smirk of his own.

When Greagoir regained control of his voice and began berating me for wasting his time with nonsense, I smiled sardonically. "I will give you answers, Ser, when you sit down. That is why I am here, after all. And when I have explained, we will discuss the next steps."

My calm manner seemed to soothe him to some extent; my years as a business consultant taught me that the way to respond to someone who was ranting was to get quieter and quieter, without appearing to be afraid. It feels extremely awkward to shout at someone who does not either respond in kind or cower. He paced back and forth a couple of times in front of his seat, face red, and then finally sat back down with a sigh.

"I met a scholar recently who knows things about the templar order that the Chantry seems to have forgotten, and it has been an eye opener. I will not waste your time with the entire story of how I came to find out I am a templar, but rather just give you the information I think is relevant.

"During recent research, I learned that the Chantry does not seem to know why some templars seem exceptionally talented, while others who work just as hard remain ineffective, at best."

Tanar interrupted me. "Before you get excited, Knight-Commander, I told her that. In Redcliffe."

I nodded. "Indeed. The scholar, who I met recently, was able to explain some things I suspect you do not know. The reason some templars abilities are stronger than others isn't something that can be taught, and it has nothing to do with morals or character or faith. What it does have to do with is magic, or rather, the resistance to it."

Tanar's eyes lit up, and Irving looked intrigued; even Greagoir appeared to be listening avidly, though his countenance was still angry.

"We are all born with a certain amount of resistance to magic. Dwarves have a lot of resistance, obviously, but in humans and elves, the amount is quite variable. And it is hereditary; if you come from parents with strong resistance, it is more likely you will have strong resistance. It is this resistance that determines to what extent a templar can develop their skills. Regardless of how hard you work, if you have low resistance to magic, you will never become a good templar. And apparently, if your resistance is high enough, you will manifest templar abilities without training.

"The scholar reasoned that I may have extremely high magical resistance, given that I grew up in a world with no magic. I wonder if all people where I grew up have it? And Wynne has confirmed it – what did you say, Wynne? Worse than healing a dwarf?"

The elderly mage nodded, chuckling. "Indeed." She turned to Irving. "Afterwards you need to try this – I cast a rejuvenation spell on Sierra, and I probably used twice the mana that I would for anyone else. Healing her was much more difficult, as well, and the lightheadedness caused by healing was far worse than normal."

I was surprised; I hadn't thought about my blackout in Honnleath for a while. But she was right – even the more minor healing she'd done since, after sparring with Tomas, made me a bit dizzy. I was drawn from my thoughts by Tanar's excited muttering.

"That would explain the Lyrium's effect, as well!" When he looked up and realised everyone was staring at him, he flushed. "Ingested Lyrium – it would increase a subject's resistance to magic. It's why dwarves have so much magic resistance – all the Lyrium in the stone."

"It seems the Chantry has forgotten a few other details, as well, over the centuries," I continued, after a pause. "For one thing, in the distant past, more people in Thedas must have understood the magical resistance, because it was purposefully bred into the royal families, and I suspect many of the noble families, in the nations across Thedas. This is why, I bet you'll find on average, that the younger sons and bastards of noble families who become templars are more effective than the commoners. It has nothing to do with upbringing or worthiness, but is something they have no more control over than their eye colour. This higher inherent magical resistance probably also decreases the number of mage children born into the royal families.

"In addition, there are abilities, which the strongest of templars should be able to learn, that I do not believe you are aware of. They likely won't make much difference to the average initiate, but those who advance through the ranks may benefit.

"I am not a master at these skills, by any means. They are mostly instinctual for me, as I was not trained in how to be a templar. I initially used them during periods of intense fear. I have, however, learned to control several of them." I held a hand up to forestall Greagoir, who was about to interrupt me. "And I am willing to show you, even to teach you, if you will accede to my request."

Greagoir did not jump to his feet again, but his complexion, which had returned to normal during my tale, flushed again. "You have information that should only be privy to the Chantry, and if I do not give you what you want, you would refuse to share it?"

"Yes," I replied, softly. "I do not believe that your Chantry has sole dominion over knowledge, nor any inherent right to take it from those who do not fall under their purview. That said, I believe there is a role for templars in Thedas, and I am willing to aid them in their task. However, there are more important things that we are dealing with than the Chantry's knowledge, or lack thereof. I have freely given you the information I know, so far, and I suspect even knowing that information will allow you to research into new templar abilities if you can test the untrained initiates for resistance, and allow the most promising to work together.

"However, if you wish us to take time away from our very critical task of ending the Blight, you must make it worth our time. I am asking for something of value to me, that inherently does not hurt you in any way. Perhaps you would like, now, to hear my request?"

When he finally nodded, I took a deep breath. "I wish for you to release Anders to be conscripted into the Grey Wardens."

I managed to avoid flinching at the inevitable explosion that came from Greagoir as he leapt to his feet.

"Of all the ... arrogant... ! You don't know what you're asking for! He's a menace. He's escaped the Circle six times, and is currently being held in the dungeon. I will not risk the safety of countless innocents by letting that ... maleficar ... out of our control."

Irving stood and objected. "Anders is no maleficar, Greagoir, and you know it. Yes, he has escaped the Circle, but has he ever hurt someone to escape? Attacked a templar? Turned to blood magic? Just because he cannot tolerate being confined, does not mean he is a maleficar."

Greagoir started to shout back, and then Tanar stood and joined the fray; I sat on my log and watched, amused, as it looked like the three adult men would come to blows. It was when the templar behind Greagoir gripped the pommel of his sword that finally, Tomas had had enough.

"Gentleman!" he shouted, over-riding even Greagoir's ranting. "Sit down this instant and we will discuss this like adults."

Despite his short hair and smooth chin, Tomas didn't lack for commanding presence. All three men fell silent, and finally sat down, sulking like children. I appealed to Greagoir once again.

"I know exactly what I am asking for, Knight-Commander. Because of the book I told you about, I know exactly what will happen to Anders in the future. He will escape again, after the Blight, and be conscripted into the Grey Wardens then instead of now. And in the meantime, he will have been damaged by the year of solitary confinement you are currently punishing him with, and you will have to put up with the embarrassment of yet another escape. Instead, he can come with us, be useful against the darkspawn, help end the Blight, and be out of your hair. I will personally take responsibility for him, and I will be able to demonstrate why you need not fear him while in my company."

Greagoir looked slightly calmer, but not entirely pacified. He turned to Wynne, and I tried not to cringe.

"What do you think, Senior Enchanter?"

Wynne looked at me, expression inscrutable. I nodded; she needed to tell the truth. I wouldn't ask her to lie about disagreeing with me.

"You know very well that I do not trust that young man. All of those escapes, and then his reputation in the tower even before that..." Irving grimaced, and I sighed. "That said, I do trust Sierra. She is well able to deal with an abomination, should something happen; ask Irving about how Uldred died, sometime, if you doubt it. She feels strongly that letting Anders become a Warden is the best course of action. While I am not so sure, I find it difficult to argue effectively. These are not normal times, and extraordinary measures may be required."

I smiled gratefully, blushing at the compliment of complete trust she paid me. I mouthed 'Thanks Mom, ' at her, and she winked at me.

"From you, Wynne, that's high praise." Greagoir sat, looking thoughtful; I took it as a good sign he hadn't refused outright. After a few moments, he asked Irving and Tomas to walk with him, and they took off toward the shore, talking quietly under their breath. Irving gestured as he spoke, and I smiled at his animation. He was sort of cute, in a grandfatherly way.