faderift | when they tell you you are made of stars, tell them you know.

"Excellent." He comes in and takes one of the seats she indicated. "I haven't any idea if you already have an opinion about the Circles, one way or the other. There's certainly no shortage of people in the Inquisition ready to offer theirs, and I'm not trying to convert you, with this story or generally. But the little I've gathered, magic isn't exactly the same in other places."

The wryness is different, slightly, when she says, “It is a source of persistent bemusement to me that so many of you imagine I might have come to the position I now hold without considering such things and what has seemed to me to be a self-evident necessity that I acquaint myself with the matters of the world that is now mine, and have my opinions on it.”

It's not a personally aimed remark, particularly, so much as Julius has given her the opportunity to make it by repeating something she's heard numerous times already. It doesn't exactly bode well for what people here expect of those in leadership, but then—

well, she's seen for herself.

She will simply have to be better.

He raises his hands. "That's a fair point, and I stand corrected. But knowing the outlines of the rebellion and holding an opinion on its rightness or lack thereof aren't precisely the same, either. I don't wish to offend though ignorance or seem to be... Hm."

He stops, considers, then says more directly: "I sometimes miss discussing magic without arguing or feeling as if I'm artificially avoiding an argument. And with you, I'm perhaps over-correcting because I'm less sure of how much context I do or don't need to provide."

“We are not going to have an argument,” she says, as if that settles it—her words out into the universe, shaping it the way she might harness magic to the same purpose. A settled, certain thing. “I wish to hear what you think and wish to say, Enchanter; I will ask you to clarify, if I need it. You don't need to—protect me from opinion to avoid a disagreement.”

It isn't that she doesn't think they might disagree; it's that Petrana is very able to compartment, to consider her moments, and furthermore if they are going to argue at any point, it serves her much better to wait until she's thoroughly heard out his opinion so she can better refute it.

If she needs to.

"Very fair." He sits back in his chair. "So. Uldred. Uldred was a senior enchanter based in Kinloch Hold, the Circle I grew up in. He was quite a vocal Libertarian -- is that a term you've come across? Mages who wished Circles to be self-governing, without Chantry involvement."

Julius glances at the fire. "This was, though, nearly fifteen years ago. At the time, mages would often have academic debates about the future of the Circle, the idea of self governance... it wasn't odd, or seen as a precursor to actual violence. So while Uldred wasn't terribly popular, it was more because he was the equivalent of a university faculty member with unusual political views, not because anyone was afraid of what he'd do."

Strange to imagine it with magic, still, a thought she swallows without voicing because the last thing she needs do is remind him how alien she is in the process of bidding him dismiss it from his mind; she kept company with scholars, once, and knows the dynamic well. Knew the type—cultivated them, once, in salons in the capitol. Drank their wine and bantered back and forth their politics, Marius's hand light upon her back, when they were still in harmony and their goals the same—

“But he gave them cause, in time,” she presumes. This is not a story with a happy ending.

"Mm." It's not as if he'd have brought Uldred up in the context he had earlier if things hadn't taken a turn. He realizes, abruptly, he's never laid out the whole story from his perspective before. It seems, now, a minor incident in the face of what came after; before, the people to whom he'd be speaking about it were closely connected, either survivors themselves or people who knew the players.

"After the disaster at Ostagar, which I imagine you have heard about, I was sent to Denerim with a small group of my fellow mages. I'd passed my harrowing by then, but I wasn't yet an enchanter; it wasn't a diplomatic mission, exactly, because like many other Circles at the time, we were generally wary of getting involved in non-mage politics, as a rule. So the rest of this I heard from survivors later."

"Uldred argued that we should give our support to Loghain Mac Tir, in exchange for his promise to grant us more autonomy. Unfortunately for Uldred, another senior enchanter who was more popular gave an unfavorable eyewitness account of Loghain's actions at Ostagar, which turned opinion against Uldred." Since Loghain is in Kirkwall at the moment, Julius finds it politic to avoid characterizing his actions at Ostagar any particular way, himself.

He pauses, then says: "From what I heard later, Uldred tried to leave; whether to give his personal support to Loghain or do something else, I'm not sure. First Enchanter Irving forbade it, and Uldred tried to break out, violently, with the help of his supporters. It turned out they'd been using blood magic." Quieter, "Uldred attempted to summon and bind a pride demon during that fight, but the demon overwhelmed him. It was a bloodbath."

A great deal in that to consider; recent history as told by a survivor of it, and carefully, too. He tells her the parts of the story that would be largely the same regardless of the mouth from which they came, less the parts that wouldn't. The heat of the moment, and how it lingers in him—what he made of what he tells her.

That it lingers in him is plain enough. She wonders, a little; not yet an enchanter, his opinion not sought, but he must have one. He has many of them, she's noticed, one for every occasion—but not today.

She decides upon a different question.

“Blood magic is a difficult subject in Thedas,” she observes, leaving the matter of Mac Tir's promises and what Julius might have made of them aside. “And a difficult one to inquire into, for that reason—I'd not have anyone take my questions amiss.” Implicit that she thinks he won't, or at least that she thinks he can be swayed into not doing so if she asserts she believes he won't. “Are the two things so connected, the blood magic and the summoning of demons?”

"Yes and no," he says, after taking a moment to properly weigh her question and push away the knee-jerk response it would have inspired coming from another source. (He's more inclined to admire than miss the deliberateness of her framing; he doesn't think whoever picked her for head of diplomacy picked poorly.)

"Blood magic is used for things other than demon summoning, but among its other qualities, it tends to attract those who believe they need more raw magical power than they could otherwise access. That much power draws demonic attention. You don't have to be a blood mage to be at risk of possession, the same way you don't have to be out wandering the woods alone at night with no weapons to be attacked by wolves -- it just makes it much more likely."

A pause, then to acknowledge what she's probably already guessed: "That's what happened with Uldred. It wasn't only that the demon escaped his control -- the demon possessed him, twisted him into an abomination. He killed many mages and templars outright, forced or tempted others into becoming abominations themselves. My understanding is that, had it not been for outside assistance, the odds were fairly even as to whether there would have been any living mages left in the tower to put down by the time Greagoir invoked the Right of Annulment."

Edited 2018-01-20 00:13 (UTC)

“In Lamorre—in Sulleciel, in truth—matters such as demons and blood magic are...”

She orders her thoughts for a moment.

“I would not say that demons are without danger, but for a witch, that danger would be...entirely self-created. I would be, there, at no more danger of possession than any other person—a demon that I had summoned might overpower me, in any number of ways, but I must summon it, it cannot simply arrive. Blood magic, in turn, is in large part no more dangerous than any other kind—as dangerous as the witch who wields it. It has different purposes, more.”

This isn't a refutation of anything he's said, more thinking out loud; explaining why it is that she asks.

“I wish to understand,” she says, after a moment. “But these are difficult topics to raise, casually, in search of understanding. I appreciate your willingness to discuss it—all of it—with me.”

"I have no doubt you would receive a very different answer from a magister, or even certain apostates; I'd rather, at least, contribute to the conversation. There are those who argue that if you stick to your own blood or the blood of a willing individual, what's the harm? If you keep it small and contained. Perhaps, on paper, that might even be true. But I've never seen it stay small and contained, once someone begins."

He exhales, slowly and steadily. "I did not see Uldred's rebellion first-hand. But I returned in time to clean up the tower. With Cousland's assistance, our First Enchanter survived. One of our senior enchanters saved many of the younger children. But I knew everyone in that tower to some degree. Everyone whose remains I found."

A pause, then: "It came out later that when Uldred thought he was risking discovery, he would expose one of his disciples as a blood mage to divert suspicion, with the predictable results for the one so exposed."

It can come as no surprise that Petrana can easily imagine those results; the bleak situation of magic in her own world is not something she's kept secret.

“This ring is the product of blood magic,” she observes, pressing her thumb for a moment to the diamond that Marius had given her. I will keep you safe. And look where that's got them. Maybe it isn't so different. Maybe it's as corrupt, as—corrupting. Maybe she's ignorant and that's all, maybe they'd have known better if anyone who could have taught them so wasn't ash.

Children, she thinks, and does not think of her own.

I am going to follow you all the way to hell, she remembers saying, and shuts that out of her mind, too. That isn't what they're discussing. She looks up at him—

“What did he hope to achieve, do you think? He must have known the cost of his actions.”

Julius seems as if he might ask, or at least offer something comforting -- he doesn't hide a flicker of concern at the nature of her ring nor her reaction to his story -- but instead, he simply shakes his head.

"I cannot know his mind; I was not one he ever targeted for recruitment, though whether that was because of my politics or my skill set I've no idea. But if I had to guess, I'd say it was a combination of a sincere belief the Circle should be self-governing combined with a taste for power. Someone would have to be First Enchanter in a newly liberated Circle, or even Grand Enchanter, and it wouldn't be someone who'd been previously loyal to the Chantry."

Julius doesn't blame him, precisely, for either motivation, but it's a very vivid example of why the ends don't always justify the means, especially where magic is concerned.

“It never would have worked,” she observes, after a moment, “pursued thus. He was undone already by his own methods—even had he succeeded. Such methods would not be secret long, and such a Circle—such a mage—could naught but expect to be a target. A symbol, in being put down.”

Whether that might have galvanized a different sort of rebellion or put paid to it entirely, they can only guess. Done is done, and none of that happened.

Still.

What it puts her in mind of doesn't bear thinking about too closely.

“One Circle. No, that would not have stood.”

"No," he agrees, "it wouldn't have. Even if he'd not turned to blood magic, even if he'd convinced the other enchanters... I can't imagine that the Chantry would have sat by and allowed Ferelden's mages independence, regardless of what Ferelden's crown had to say about it. But I suppose that evaluation is also much easier to make in hindsight."

Julius isn't entirely sure he would have seen the templars' decision to split off coming, either. Perhaps it was easier to imagine a bloodless sea change with powerful enough allies, years ago.

"It is a complex affair, as you surely know. For years, the Chantry assumed most if not all apostates used blood magic; it was a convenient excuse for putting them down on sight. That, clearly, I cannot excuse either. It is just difficult for me to be cavalier about warnings against blood magic when I saw firsthand the damage it can do to a man's character, even before the rebellion's violent end. Uldred was not always power-mad, I am reasonably sure."

when they tell you you are made of stars, tell them you know.

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