#templar leon

 Smiling, her green eyes bright, she moves away from the table and towards the young templar. Ignoring what is being said by the strange Qunari woman.  

"Leon?" Mesara's voice raises with her emotions. Elated at seeing him again after so much time.  "Is that truly you? Dear Maker, it has been so long!"

She laughs shyly, stopping just a few steps in front of him. Everything has fallen away around her. Vision tunneling to just this one man.

"Mesara! It is- I mean. I. Adraste's tits I can't believe it's you!"

He sweeps her into his arms, forgoing all decorum, she returns the gesture. Arms wrapping around his neck, pressing her cheek to his, despite the height difference of almost half a foot. Which Leon makes up for by lifting Mesara from her feet.  

"My dearest friend, how I missed you." She whispers gently. Eyes shut tight. As though if she opened them, she might find him gone once more.  

"You know how much it killed me to go, but I couldn't disobey direct orders. I appealed the transfer as often as was allowed." Leon's voice thickened with grief. He grabbed tightly at Mesara, pulling her closer still, then ran a hand over her short hair. "What happened? You used to keep it so long."

He pulls back to look Mesara in the eyes, her own drop down, blush coloring an otherwise pale face.  

"I had.... an incident. This was the only way to salvage what was left," her voice is soft enough that it barely carries. And Leon chuckles. Then lifts his head as he catches Damaia's pointed comment on introductions.

Tan cheeks darkening, he lets Mesara down slowly. Salvaging what he could of the incident, he walks forward to introduce himself to the mages.  

"My apologies, good sers and ladies; I am Leon Du'Morte, a templar of Kinloch Hold, and formerly a templar of the Ostwick circle. Of the Illustrious Du'Morte family of Ostwick. And now an associate of the Frostblades," Leon makes a short formal bow.  

Mesara had taken the brief respite to smooth out her gown; stepping up beside Leon as she does so.  

"I apologize for my rash behavior. Leon and I had been acquianted previously while in Ostwick, and I was surprised to see him so suddenly, after many years of estrangement. I do so hope that you will pardon my rudeness, as it would seem I have missed the introductions." Mesara inclines her head ever so slightly. Then takes in each of the mercenaries before her. She could tell that the two Qunari, and the oldest among the humans were the ones in charge, as the others would glance to them for direction on occasion.  

"I am Lady Mesara Trevelyan, Loyal Enchanter of the Ostwick Circle. And my companions are Enchanter Carintha, Enchanter Pietro, Enchanter Tiene, Apprentice Dalen, and Tranquil Benton. " Each of the mages bowed their head in turn, and Mesara listed them off in order of standing. "I will ensure to properly introduce myself to each of you when time allows. For now, we seem to be delaying supper, and I am certain that it will be better than the rations from your journey. If we may, Lord Fergus?" She raises her open palm to the Teryn, requesting his permission.

"Yes, of course. Come friends, let us all be seated. Rest your weary feet and see what wonders my Nan has managed to cook up for us today." Teryn Cousland smiles warmly at all of his guests, seemingly glad to be focusing on the meal.

Mesara moves to take her seat once more, excusing herself from Leon with a soft smile. She flashes another smile to their host; and allows for one of the servants to fill her glass with a sweet wine. Lifting the glass slightly, she raises it towards the mercenary band. "I propose a toast, to our new friends and companions. We thank you for taking a chance in accepting our contract. In these turbulent times, it is good to have such a competent company to entrust with our protection."

The mages lift their voices. "To the Frostblades!"

Mesara takes a sip from her glass. Then stands, raising the glass once more, this time in the direction of their host.  

Her voice is light, warm. "And a toast to our dear host, who has been more than kind to us during our time here. Teryn Cousland, you have done more for myself and my friends than we could have ever imagined when we requested asylum. You have welcomed us into your home, despite the dangers apparent when associating with mages, Loyalist or apostate, and treated us with every kindness and warmth. We owe you much, good ser, and can only repay it with our friendship."

She dips her head, raising the wine glass to her lips once more. Green eyes bright and warm as they catch the gaze of the Teryn. Those at the table raise their glasses once more, voices roaring, "To Teryn Cousland, may his life be long and full!"

"I am happy to accept your friendship, my dear, and would be glad to give it in return. To all at my table. May your journey be without trouble, and may you arrive safely at the Conclave." He lifts his cup in return, letting his gaze drop to each of the guests at his table, lingering only a moment too long on Mesara.  

Lowering herself to her seat once more, Mesara listens quietly to the chatter that begins to pick up around her. The Frostblades seem a merry bunch, boisterous. There is no hesitation in including her companions in their conversation, telling stories of their exploits, or asking questions about life in the circle. Mesara notices that the small blonde elf keeps mostly to herself, eyes focused down on the food as it is presented to her. Then takes note of the Qunari male's attention to her, watching the way his eyes would flick in her direction, or he would answer a question directed towards there in a way that would draw attention away. How unusual.  

Filing away the information, Mesara turns her attention over to the captain. The woman seemed the living definition of excess. An excess of emotion, an excess of words. The list continued on. She was large, muscled, as one might expect from a warrior of her supposed caliber.  

Turning away from the mercenaries, she focused once more on the Teryn.  

"Teryn Fergus," she inquires softly, leaning over to be heard more clearly. "I was curious, how much do you know about this particular company? I do believe that I had forgotten to ask earlier; and seeing them now has quite piqued my curiosity."

"They are known for being one of the more silent groups. Often based in between Orlais and Fereldan, from what I know they are very loyal, I've never heard of them breaking a contract. In fact, from what I have heard, they often go above and beyond the call of duty within their contracts. Staying on longer than agreed, ensuring that casualties are a minimum, stabilizing what they can in villages they stay around. I've also heard that their contracts include a non-disclosure clause. So, no one who hires them is allowed to discuss the actions of the group directly. Though there are whispers as to why."

"Really? Pray tell!"

"It's been said, by survivors or by witnesses, that they use unorthodox methods. Specifically, that they hire on apostates.  From what I know of mercenary groups, it's not completely unheard of, but something about this group has warranted the need to keep it even more undercover, therefore the need for nondisclosure for any of their contacts. However, as you have hired them, I am certain that you would be welcome to ask. They do not seem the type to lie under contract."

Mesara searches the Teryn's face for any hint of teasing, and then smiles gently. She nods once and turns back in her seat. "Thank you for indulging my curiosity, though I am afraid that I find it no more sated than the beginning of our conversation dear Teryn."

"I apologize for not having more information. I would offer to search more into the matter, but I fear that it might be too late, as you intend to leave tomorrow.... that is, if you still intend to leave tomorrow?"

"Yes, I do fear that we are too late as it were. Our fellows must have already arrived at the Conclave, so we cannot delay any further. Though it will not be a happy parting by any means. I did mean it, I will miss your company." Her green eyes remain warm, soft, as she gazes at the Teryn. And he returns her smile, bowing his head.  

"Far be it from me to keep you from your duty. Please, enjoy your remaining time here with no thoughts of unhappy partings, I have yet had enough of those in my life." His words are rough with everything that goes unsaid. Mesara frowns, but understands.  

"So long as I retain your friendship, so long as we write, I would not call that unhappy, despite parting company.  I loathe to lose such a new friendship. Especially one so promising such as this." She presses her fingertips to his hand, and his gaze shoots up to search her own. "You have made a troubling time bearable. Thank you."

Fergus nods slightly. His face looking suddenly younger, softer. Mesara can feel her skin prickling, and she quickly looks towards Leon. Catching his questioning, pained gaze. Her eyes drop. A red tinge to her otherwise pale cheeks. "I do believe I am suddenly not feeling quite well. If you all would excuse me?"

Mesara steps away calmly from the banquet table, making it only to the door to the hall before she bolts. Nearly running for her room. Her heart pounding in her chest. Once she finally makes it, she slips in as quickly as she can, locking the door behind her. Pressing her forehead to the cool wood. Her hand pressed to her chest.  

"But why?" She hisses under her breath, eyes blown wide. She takes a few steadying breaths. Stepping away from the door. Mesara turns towards the water basin next to her vanity. She dips her washing cloth into the cool liquid, and dabs it at her brow and chest, trying to calm herself. It was unlike her to lose control like this, Mesara did not enjoy the feeling. She took a deep breath.  

Releasing it, she looks over at the mirror. Frowning she goes over to fix her kohled eyes and rearrange her hair. Nodding as soon as she adds a few finishing touches. It would have to do. Gliding over to the door, she unlocks it, pulling it open.

To see a grey fist raised just at eye level.

Mesara blinks, then lifts her gaze to the owner of the fist. "If you would kindly move your hand, I would very much appreciate it."

The hand drops hurriedly, then raises to rub at a muscled neck. "Sorry about that, ma'am. Was just about to knock."

The Qunari Captian's voice is deep and rough, as though she had spent her entire childhood screaming, and the ragged edge stayed with her. Mesara smiles slightly. "There is no need to apologize, I would have appreciated the gesture had you managed to complete the action. Now, if I might ask, why were you about to knock on my door?"

"Just wanted to check on you Boss, you ran off in a bit of a hurry. Don't worry, I don't think anyone but me and Vashta noticed. Most of the others accepted that you weren't feeling well. Whispered a few worried statements and then went on eating that excellent quiche the cook whipped up for an appetizer. Can't wait to see what she manages for the next round." Deep blue eyes flicker back and forth over her face. "But, if you aren't feeling well enough to manage making it back, perhaps I should just bring a plate back to you.... Or you can let me know why one puppy-eyed look from the Templar kid made you bolt like a rabbit before a fennec?"

"I... "Mesara pauses to gather herself. Then lifts her chin to strike a proud figure. "I've no idea what you mean. I did notice Leon looking at me, but didn't think anything of it. Certainly nothing I would share with a woman I had just met." She raised her voice to haughty levels.  

"Now now, no need to fluff your feathers madam. Was just wondering if I was going to have to have words with him before we all started to the Conclave?"

"There is no need, if Leon wishes to speak with me regarding the subject, he is more than welcome to."

"Understood, now, I am sure you have a few questions? I was going to speak to the contact about it, but it took half a minute before realizing that you were the one in power here. And less than that to know that your group was going to need a good few moments to come to terms with the contract."

Talon falls into step beside the Qunari mage, the elder human staying silent for several beats while waiting for Damaia to acknowledge him.

"Yes, Talon?"

"You gonna talk about what has you so on edge, Demona?"  

Damaia huffs. Then looks down at Talon, his salt and pepper hair glinting slightly in the sunlight.  "I really don't want to."

"But you should."

"We are walking into a war," Damaia keeps her deep voice low, it wouldn't do for the others to hear this. "We are taking a group of mages, and mages loyal to the circles no less, through a country being torn apart by mages and templars alike. We were lucky that the last templar group was caught unaware. But if we get caught again.... And not only that..."

Talon nods slightly, knowing where she was leading. "You and Clarrisse."

"What if they try to turn us in? I know that once they signed the contract they swore not to expose us? But who is to know whether these mages will keep their word? What happens if we get to this Conclave thing and their precious Divine says that all mages should be locked back up? Clarrisse they can convert, she's a healing mage, barely has enough elemental talents to light a spark, but strong enough that they won't Tranquil her. Me?"

She shoots a glance back at Leon. He was smiling and laughing at something that Kurt had said. Ruffling the blonde's choppy hair.  

"You know how he reacted to my magic, and he isn't even that bad of a guy." Damaia shifts her gaze back to Talon. The man had been her commander for years, until he had decided he was tired of leading men to their death. He, of any of them, except maybe Vashta, would understand her hesitancy. "I don't want to needlessly lead us into danger, we already skirt the edges. Having me and Clarrisse around. But we are careful, and mercenaries code usually protects us. I don't know for how much longer."  

"Times change Demon girl. They started changing when Fereldan gained back their freedom from the stuffies. And it seems like it isn't going to stop changing any time soon. We fulfill our contracts, we watch each other's backs. If it looks like too much danger, stay back from the building, the rest of us know what it takes to get the job done just as well, and we can't very well lose our captain, or the heals. Keep a sharp eye and a sharper mind. No different than any other day, Damaia."

She nodded slowly, her blue gaze dropping to face the road ahead. They still had several miles to go before reaching Highever, and she needed to have her head on straight before they got there to greet their contact.  

"Thanks Talon. Seems like wisdom is not so easily lost as the position."

"Never said it was."

Chuckling, she holds her head high again. "Come on boys! We have miles to go before we sleep. And if we pick up the pace, we might make it before chow time!"

The band raised a cheer behind her, Vashta smiling with an eyebrow raised. Damaia shook her head slightly. He would need to wait to ask his questions. She flashed a quick hand signal, Not in front of the crew.  

Nodding, the warrior turned back to the argument that was picking up between Trevior and Reen, the elf and dwarf each claiming that they could outdrink the other. Vashta overruled both of them in claiming that neither could stand Maaras-Lok. Clarrisse was talking with Leon in quite tones, the tips of her pointed ears quite red. Kurt, Juliana, Paka, and Nikier were all playing with a set of travel dice, betting away chores; while Vierran and Harold lead the pack mules that carried their gear. Xavier was running about the area, scouting to his heart's desire. Damaia smiled, proudly, these were her people; she would not fail them.  

The mercenaries were able to make the rest of the trek without any further delays. By the time that night had begun to fall, the Frostblades found themselves at the gate to the Teryn of Highever's estate. Damaia signaled to the crew to keep quiet, then waited for them to be noticed. Unfortunately, there was no knocker on the gate's door, or she would have used it to amuse herself. After but a few moments, time enough for a runner to be sent, the seal to the peephole was moved aside.  

"Are you expected, ser?" Came a light voice, almond eyes peeking from behind the slot.  

"We are the crew hired to escort the mages of Ostwick Circle to the Conclave, I would certainly hope that they were expecting us." Damaia keeps her voice light, and chuckles slightly. "I was told that my contact would be a-"

She pauses, blanking on the name. "Vashta! What was the contact again?" She hollars over her shoulder.  

"I think it was Corinthia, or Carri, or something like that!" His deep voice rumbles with barely withheld laughter.  

"Enchanter Carintha." Talon says in his barely audible huff.  

"Right! That one! Would you let her know we have arrived? And that we would greatly appreciate being let inside at some point?" Damaia grins widely.

The voice lets out a squeak, and then jolts off from behind the door. Leaving the band to wait for entry.  

"So, Leon, do I need to remind you to be on your best behavior? Or have we moved past attacking unknown mages on sight?" Her tone teases, but blue eyes remain hard and mirthless above her smile. She can see the response it stirs from Leon, the guilty flash of emotion scatter across his face. "Just want to make certain before we introduce you to a bunch of skirts with sticks."

"I think if I can manage to deal with you flinging sparks at me every chance you get, I can manage a few Loyals who might know better." Damaia knows that the ease of his voice hides the clench of his fist.  

"Good, because I want you to be my frontman on this. Contacts usually don't enjoy working with the hornier members of our troup, if you catch my drift." Laughter scatters about the crew just as the doors open, revealing none other than a man whom Damaia had to assume was Teryn Cousland himself.  

There was a beat of quiet.

Another.

And then laughter.  

Damaia burst out laughing, long and hard. Eyes tearing up from the effort. Her crew stood dumbfounded until the Teryn started to chuckle himself. After a few moments of open mouthed stares and hearty laughing, Damaia calmed herself down enough to bow deep to the Teryn.  

"My deepest apologies serah. Had I known you were so near I would have tempered my tongue, so much as one can expect me to do so."

"No need madam, I have spent my own fair share of time among the armed forces, I took no offense beyond the initial shock. Please, allow me to introduce myself. Teryn Fergus Cousland, at your service."

"Damaia Adaar, at yours." Damaia dropped a wink with the statement, then turned to introduce the others, but paused. Turning back towards Fergus," You aren't our contact, perhaps I should wait to introduce everyone until we meet with them. That way I can avoid repetition."

"Of course, we have had supper prepared, please allow me to escort you to the dining hall."

"It would be your pleasure, serah."

"Indeed, it would madam."

Damaia strides beside Fergus, the others falling into columns behind them. All but Leon knew their place in the order. Always strategically placed to avoid being caught by surprise or ambush.  

She was impressed with his ability to keep at a soldier's steady pace.  

It took no time at all for them to reach the main dining hall, as it was near to the main gate. Fergus showed them all inside, and Damaia noted that they were the last to arrive. A group of four mages, and a woman whom she assumed was the mistress of the house, if her gown was anything to go by. She bowed deeply, holding it for several moments before stepping up to the table, glad to see that Leon had followed her example and was now standing by her.  

The red head stood, entire body held into a regal stance, and the mages attempted to follow her example. Damaia noticed that none seemed to have the young woman's stature and natural air of command. She waited silently for Leon to make the introductions, as she had instructed him. But after several moments of almost awkward silence, she turned to seem him staring, slack-jawed, at the lady.

She snapped her fingers to try catching his attention, then shot her gaze towards the woman in question. Who was smiling widely and moving towards the templar.  

"Leon?" Her voice was high, melodious. Something that went beyond years of training towards the dialect that Orlesians tried to perfect, and almost into pure music. "Is that truly you? Dear Maker, it has been so long!"

"Mesara! It is- I mean. I. Adraste's tits I can't believe it's you!"

"Well, that explains it then," Damaia smirks to the others and motions for them to take their seats. "Come on kids, seems like these two might need a moment."

She caught the way that their host eyed Leon with interest; assuming that there was another story there.  

"Well, allow me to make introductions then,"Damaia rumbles with amusement. "I am Damaia Adaar, captain of this particular crew for the Frostblades. Vashta, the other large one, is my second and kin. Talon is the grizzled one who is staring like he might bite someone's head off, don't worry, he hasn't.... yet." She turns to point to each of her little family in turn. "Clarrisse, the small blonde elf is our company healer. Trevior is the brunette elf with a finger itch. Reen is our own personal Casteless dwarf, don't let him try drinking with you, man can hold his ale. Kurt and Juliana are the twins, here. This is Vierran, our Quartermaster. The Antivan with the chunk missing out of her ear is Paka; and Nikier is her Orlesian husband, no accounting for taste, sorry Paka. Our Riviani friend is Harold, who is in charge of procuring and keeping mounts, since I assume none of you is fond of walking. And Xavier is the young man who is now trying to slip out of the door with a plate. Xavier, be civilized, sit, now."

Damaia runs through each of the introductions, keeping an eye on the reactions of the mages. Nothing too bad so far, they all seemed a little taken aback by the mixed company, but Damaia assumed it was their first time running with mercs.  

Wow hey look at that kid who grew up as unlucky as he did. No, no. nothing like his parents dying or the like. Something worse. He grew up with Mages for parents in Kirkwall. And not very long after he was born, his mother was made Tranquil. Now, suspected of possessing the ability to produce magic, he was raised between the Chantry and The Circle. There he was taught not to fear magic, but respect it. In his father's words;

"The danger isn't the person wielding it, it's only the power from where they draw it. If you seek too much power, you'll be blinded by it. This is how mages are possessed. Demons will take over your body, finally giving you what you sought: Power. When that happens, you will never be able to become human again. You will be an Abomination."

Few years go by...

Growing up without a 'mother's love' granted him ease to speak and be around other women. All types of women. ALL the women. But let's not talk about that right now because it isn't relevant. In his teens and finally proved to not harbor any skill in magic, he was released. Where? To his family's house. Since they weren't poor, but not wealthy either, their house was decent. Leon was allowed to visit his father and Tranquil mother twice a week. And he never missed those visits.

Years went by...

He's now known in the Elven Alienage, Brothels, The Circle and Half of Kirkwall as a womanizer. Inspired to keep his parents safe, he took up arms as a Templar. Funny how things went. Templars were being too tyrannical to mages. And that much became very apparent when he joined into the ranks. His opinions were mostly shot down due to the fact of having Mage parents. but that didn't stop Leon from seeking equality. And that pretty much got him into trouble a lot. And things got REALLY crazy when the Mage Rebellion exploded. And finally, the unthinkable happened. The Conclave was destroyed. And there went his parents too [oops I lied about them not dying ha ha]. Shortly after war between both sides exploded. Leon quickly searched for remaining mages that he knew that were hiding in the Alienage and escaped. He had to get them out of there because he knew they were the ones who stood less of a chance in the face of the Templars.