95A/N: I had a request to put Nicholai Trevelyan and Natalya Song's stories into a single volume. I have decided to do just that. If you have been reading A Price of a Song, and Trevelyan in my Grim Tales, those chapters will be included here as well. Since writing the first Song story, I've come too really like the characters, I hope you will like them as well, plus the new stuff I come up with, well without further nattering on from me, here we go.
The Trevelyans
Chapter 1: The Leader
The Mage Rebellion.
That was how some people described what had happened after the events of the White Spire. The failed arrest of the First Enchanters of the Circles of Thedas, and their escape afterwards, followed days later by the open declaration of war against the Templar order. These events finally unleased the firestorm, a storm that had begun four years earlier with the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry.
For the mages, it was the first step on their road to glorious liberation, after being caged for so long they would finally be able to take their place in the world. A new dawn was coming, the dawn of the age of the free mages. They would finally be able to right the wrongs and enter a new era of strength and prosperity.
At least…that is what the Libertarians said.
Nicholai Trevelyan, Senior Enchanter of the Circle of Ostwick was not so sure, especially after the last day's events.
Tall, fit, and slender, he did not fit the stereotype of a senior enchanter. Most thought senior mages were all funny little men with long white beards. Trevelyan was a handsome man, shoulder length blond hair with a strong jaw and piercing green eyes, his clever manner and roguish charms had sent many a noble girl's heart a flutter in the Teyrn's court, and had he not been born with magic, he would have had no trouble finding a noble wife. Taken to the circle at the age of eleven, he had spent much of his life in Ostwick Circle and had excelled there. He likely would have been elected First Enchanter when the position became open, but now…there was little chance of that.
The Circles were no more, and if the Templars had their way, the mages would be joining them shortly.
He looked out over his fellows, many were dirty and starving. They had been on the run for days, ever since word of what had happened in the White Spire reached Ostwick. Fighting had broken out almost immediately. Whether it was the Templars or the mages who started it neither side could say. Had the Libertarians decided to strike before the Templars got word to annul the circle, or had the Templars acted; fearing an open uprising, that the mages would sweep the tower clean of their number.
The fighting had begun, and there had been death on both sides, and no one could say how it started…
Typical.
Whatever had happened, the results were the same, the circle was burning, and the mages were on the run, more than a few of them lay wounded, tended to by whatever healers had accompanied them. Some of these would recover, but more than a few would die here, bloody and cleaved from their wounds.
The Enchanter shook his head.
A glorious liberation? He thought bitterly.
Yeah…right.
More than a few of his fellows sat quietly at the edge of their camp, their eyes empty staring into the darkness, likely wondering how it had all come to this. The Circle in Ostwick had not been perfect, not by a longshot, but at the same time it had not been a prison. Mages had had contact with their families, they were allowed to speak at the Teyrn's court, and though Templar justice could be harsh at times, it had been nowhere near as bad as it had been in Kirkwall under the late Knight-Commander Meredith.
Trevelyan frowned, he had had friends in Kirkwall, people he had met many times at the college in Cumberland. Many had died when the Circle had been annulled, and what had come later…
He shook his head.
Kirkwall had been the spark, now they were all caught in an inferno.
An inferno that would likely claim them all.
There were only fifty of them now, and of those fifty, only a good third of those could fight. The bulk of those travelling with them were apprentices, children who had been caught in the crossfire, and the bulk of them did not know enough to use magic in a fight, not successfully anyway. Most of those that Trevelyan would have turned to in a fight had died fleeing the circle, engaging the Templars who had attempted to stop them, that or in their desperation, they had turned to demons and became abominations, further adding to the chaos.
The mage frowned.
Even now the memories of the escaped haunted him. Senior Enchanter Lydia, his mentor had been left in charge when the First Enchanter had journeyed to the White Spire in Orlais. Lydia had been something of a surrogate mother to him since his first days in the circle. When his family had turned away from him, it was she that had kept him from falling into despair; it was she that reminded him of who he was, and why he needed to succeed in the Circle.
Lydia had been one of the first to die. She had been trying to organize some of the mages for the escape; one of the younger of their number had panicked when a group of Templars had come storming in. The boy had given into rage, and become an abomination. He had slaughtered everyone, not just the Templars but the mages as well. Trevelyan had found the creature howling with savage glee over the bodies of both his enemies and his one-time allies.
Trevelyan had destroyed the beast. He would have recovered Lydia's body for a proper burning but there had been no time…the mages had barely escaped the circle with their lives, the few that had anyway.
Most of the circle had scattered after that. The ones that had stayed with him and his fellows were likely the largest group remaining, made up of a collection of tranquil, apprentices, Lucrosians, Loyalists and Aequitarians.
Trevelyan himself was an Aequitarian, though he had spent much of his time working with mages in the Lucrosian fraternity. Business and politics were close cousins, his father would say. He had believed in chantry law, just as Lydia had, but unlike her he had been willing to speak out when Templars chose to ignore it, or break in the name of what they felt was righteous justice. Ostwick might not have been Kirkwall, but there had been several incidents involving overzealous Templar recruits, recruits who had gotten off too easy when it came to punishment if you asked him.
The Knight-Commander had no doubt come to hate Trevelyan's visits to his office, and likely would have done something more drastic had the mage not been noble born.
Nothing had happened to him because of his father, being the son of Bann Pieter Trevelyan did have some perks, even in the circle.
His birth had not hurt his rise in the circle any. Most of the senior mages had wanted to be on good terms with him, even when he had just been an apprentice. The Lucrosians had courted his favor greatly, hoping to get his father involved in their various money making schemes.
Nicholai had never had the patience or the desire to simply work to earning profit. As a first born son, he had been in training to one day lead his family, had his magic never manifested, he likely would have. Pieter Trevelyan had been a fighter in his youth, competing in the grand tourney at the tender age of thirteen. The Bann had done his best to make his eldest son into a warrior prince that the whole of House Trevelyan could be proud of. He had first held a training sword at a very young age, and by the time he was eleven had gotten very good at the art of swordplay.
He had had little use for such skills in the circle, or hadn't had before the trouble had started. Now it seemed his skills were in great demand.
Lucky me.
"Trevelyan?"
He looked up. Senior Enchanter Gilbert stood before him, dark skinned with a bald head and heavily waxed mustache, the leader of the remaining loyalists here was easy to recognize.
"Yes," Nicholai said, smoothing out his robes.
"The others want to see you," Gilbert said, "They think it is time we tried to come up with a plan."
Now they want to plan, Nicholai thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. They had been on the run for days, wandering aimlessly through the wilderness of the central Free Marches.
Of course, now that supplies were getting low, they needed to do more than simply run, if the group did not do something soon, hunger and fear would finish what the Templars had started.
He sighed, but nodded in agreement. As one of the four remaining senior enchanters the others were now looking to him for guidance. He already knew what to expect from the others during this little meeting. Enchanter Lamont, a high strung little man with curly red hair had been a loyalist for as long as Trevelyan had known him, but the deaths of several of his friends during the escape had caused him to drift towards the Libertarian point of view. Enchanter Gillian, the dark haired olive skinned woman who now represented the Lucrosians, would insist that they try out new ways to help boost their funds.
Trevelyan agreed, but thought they needed more than coin if they were to survive the next few months.
You could not spend coin if you were dead.
IOI
"The chantry would never have authorized this," Lamont snarled, "We should purge every Templar we come across, as punishment for their betrayal of Andraste!"
Trevelyan rolled his eyes.
"If you have an extra army lying around Monty," he said dryly, "I'm all for that plan."
The Loyalist glared at him.
"Your glibness does you no credit Nicholai," he said flatly.
"Neither does getting us all killed doing something stupid," Trevelyan responded.
"We do not have the supplies to do anything against the Templars," Gillian said, "And we have no means to replenish what we have used already."
Gilbert shook his head.
"Perhaps we can go back to Ostwick, seek shelter in the chantry."
Lamont glared at him.
"The Templars remaining in the city would cut our throats even before we reached those gates, any survivors they captured would be made tranquil, mark my words."
"We can't go back to the city," Nicholai agreed, "we wouldn't make it with the wounded, and we would more than likely run into a Templar patrol before we even reached the gates."
"What is the alternative then?" Gilbert demanded, his voice cracking with fear.
Gillian sighed.
"We have little gold, and no lyrium, we might have a chance to do more if we had both, but…"
And if we had a chicken we could make soup," Lamont growled, "But we don't have any chicken. Dreaming about what we could do if we had access to lyrium is just fantasy talk."
The Lucrosian glared at him.
"What do you suggest Monty," she demanded, "Blood magic?"
The Loyalist puffed up his chest.
"No," he gasped, "Never."
"Because that is what it sounded like you were suggesting," Gillian spat back, "We have no lyrium; so why not turn to blood; we still have access to that."
Lamont glared at her.
"I would never be so foolish," he said sounding insulted.
"You should not say such things Gillian," Gilbert said, "No one here is that foolish."
The Lucrosian glared at them both.
"Desperation makes fools of us all," she said, "Our people are getting desperate, if we don't do something soon…"
Lamont gave her a dirty look.
"If you have any ideas Gilly, now is as good a time as any to suggest them."
The Lucrosians mouth snapped shut, she was smart enough to realize that she was out of their league, perhaps all of them were.
Nicholai sighed.
He would have preferred someone to follow, he was not afraid to lead himself, but had no desire to harm his family by taking up the mantle himself. He had sat back for as long as he could, watching these three, hoping that one of them would show some balls, that one of them would step forward, at least until they linked up again with the First Enchanter, provided he survived Orlais of course.
He sighed heavily.
It seemed he did not have the luxury of sitting back anymore.
"Perhaps we should leave the Marches," Gilbert suggested, "Link up with our fellows in Orlais?"
"No," Trevelyan said flatly.
That got the others attention. It was the first time one of them had refused a suggestion.
"No?" Lamont said giving him a quizzical look.
"No," Nicholai repeated, "We would have to go through Nevarra to reach Orlais. We might run into other mages, but we also might end up pinned between Templar forces pursuing us, and Templar forces watching the border for any mages attempting to cross."
That silenced everyone for a few moments. Perhaps they had not considered that.
"We could take a ship," Gilbert suggested.
"I doubt if many of us are sailors Gilbert," Nicholai reminded his fellow mage, "And as Gillian would no doubt point out, we don't have the gold to hire a ship, if we could even find one that would take us."
Lamont's eyes narrowed.
"What would you suggest Trevelyan?" he asked.
"Indeed," Gillian said, "What do you think we should do?"
Nicholai sighed, both happy and unhappy that they were all falling into line so easily.
Have we been locked up for so long we are all just sheep, he wondered, and if we are, do we even have a chance to survive on our own?
Sadly, he had no answer to those questions.
He took a deep breath, and tried to think.
He thought of his half-sister Natalya, the bard was always getting herself in and out of trouble, she had managed to outthink more than a few enemies who were both stronger than her, and better defended.
At those times, his sister had said, I remember three little things, those will help you above all else when outnumbered or outclassed: Knowledge, supplies, and aggression.
He considered her three points of troublemaking…
…perhaps there was a way to adapt them here.
"First," he said, "We need information. We haven't heard anything since word of the First Enchanters' escape in Orlais."
He pursed his lips, trying to come up with ideas.
"We've passed several villages and inns. We should consider sending people back; find out what is going on. We should probably avoid any place with a chantry; it is most likely to have a Templar garrison."
The Divine would never have agreed with what the Templars did in the White Spire," Gilbert suggested.
"We can't be sure," Nicholai said, "She might decide to support the Templars as a means of keeping the peace. We need to know before we make any more decisions."
No one rejected his suggestion, so he thought they likely agreed with him.
"Next, we need supplies; I think I might have a way of getting us some."
Gillian tilted her head slightly.
"How?"
Trevelyan smiled.
"After our scouts have gathered the information we need, we might have them suggest to the right people that there are mages camping near their home, but that the mages might consider leaving if the good people...made it worth their while."
Gilbert coughed with shock, his eyes widened with surprise.
"You," he sputtered, "You want us to demand tribute?"!
Nicholai's smile turned more sly.
"Not tribute," he said, "a donation. Most people fear magic and mages in general, many would happily pay what they could to make sure that no mages go within a hundred paces of their home."
Lamont frowned.
"What if they summon the Templars?"
"Since we are not going to be where they think we are going to be, that won't be much of a problem."
Gillian gave him a cold look.
"What if they don't pay?"
"We leave them alone," Trevelyan shrugged, "I'm sure there are enough wealthy merchants in this area that they would rather pay than risk the wrath of angry mages, and those that don't…well…they will just think that the mages threat was just a pointless rumor, and think nothing more of it."
Gillian nodded.
"It is a bit of a gamble," she said.
"Our lives are all a gamble right now," he reminded her.
Lamont tapped his chin with his finger considering what Trevelyan had said.
"You wish to use the mundanes' fear of us, without inspiring more?"
"Exactly," Trevelyan said, "we only have enough strength right now to defend ourselves, maybe."
Nicholai glanced over at the others behind him; some were looking up waiting to hear good news from their superiors.
He was hoping to give them some.
"We start sacking villages now, all of the Free Marches will rise up against us, and help the Templars hunt us down. We accept our donations, stay out of sight, heal our wounded, and resupply, then we can focus on what comes next."
"And what does come next?" Gillian asked him.
Trevelyan sighed.
"No one here wanted this war, I know I didn't, but it is here now, so we need to take measures to survive it. First thing we need is blades. It is unlikely we will find any knights or lords willing to take up our cause, so we will need a force of sell-swords."
He turned to Gillian.
"That is where the gold we are going to get comes in."
"Depending on how much we can raise," the Lucrosian said, "It could be done."
He turned to the two loyalists.
"Gentlemen?" he asked.
Lamont shook his head.
"Joshua and Clarice were loyal mages, and good friends."
The red haired man's eyes flashed with anger.
"The Templar recruits in the Circle butchered them. They have betrayed their vows to both the chantry and Andraste."
He gave Trevelyan an intense look.
"If you are going to bring the Maker's justice to those murderers…I'm in."
Gillian looked at Gilbert.
"Well?" she said.
The loyalist sighed.
"As long as we don't hurt any innocents, I'm in."
Trevelyan nodded.
"I don't want to hurt any innocents," he said.
"But we will defend ourselves if we must," Gillian said.
Trevelyan nodded.
"If we must."
The Lucrosian smiled slightly.
"We have a plan," she said, "AT least the beginnings of one. I'll see who wants to go and scout out the surrounding settlements."
"Tell them to be careful," Trevelyan said, "Don't take any unnecessary risks, and avoid the Templars."
Gillian nodded.
"I'll tell them Nick."
He nodded.
"Good."
The Lucrosian left, leaving Trevelyan with the two Loyalist. Both looked like they were about to soil their drawers.
He did not blame them.
They may not have wanted it, but they were now at war with the entire Templar order.
A frightening thought.
"Where will we find sell-swords?" Gilbert asked the fear he was feeling making his voice crack.
"Yes," Lamont said nothing, "We will need skilled men, men that can be trusted."
Nicholai Trevelyan nodded.
"Not to worry," he said.
"I know a guy."
