Containable (irline)

!_containable(irline)

Палитко Станислав Андреевич

The prologue.

The final battle of Dragon Age II was over. Meredith turned into a lyrium statue, after which I logged out of the game and turned off the computer. After completing the game twice, I felt like returning to the original, but the second part was more monotonous and weaker. However, even the first one was in many ways a beautiful fairy tale. If only the characters' and actions were closer to reality, and the player had more freedom... But in any case, I was going to go through Dragon Age: Origins as a magician again. If only I had known then what these desires would lead to...

Having boiled water for tea, I was incredibly thirsty, I drank a couple of cups and went to bed.

* * *

The dream was strange. Not to mention that it was just clear. In all my life, I remember only one of my own dreams, in which I walked along the tracks behind the last train. This was the second time I dreamed about Fade. Unsurprisingly, after a few hours of the Dragon Age. After glancing at my translucent body, I flew up to the giant statue nearby and began to examine it. As expected, no "code" appeared among my knowledge. Lifting my head and looking at the silhouette of the Black City, I returned to the changeable statue. The sight of this statue, along with the playground below, led me to the conclusion that I had dreamed of the very first quest of the game — Torture. There was only one question left— who am I now for the unfortunate magicians? Spirit or demon? Unable to find an answer, I returned to staring at the statue. Perhaps it was a kind of apathy that saved me from insanity.

"Who are you?" a question interrupted my admiration of the statue. Turning around, I saw an elf in front of me. A white-eared, white-haired, green-eyed elf in a robe, or, as this robe is also called, in a magician's robe. In order to take a closer look at him, I took a couple of steps towards him. The magician staggered back and took three steps back and to the side. Or rather, two steps, because on the third he tripped over a vase, staggered and fell, twisting his leg. Then he tried to get up, but his leg wouldn't let him do it — he fell down again. Well, no, I didn't need a sick magician. After all, if I'm a spirit, then why not try.

I mentally reached out to his ankle and wished it would heal. The magician's eyes widened, and I suddenly felt a little weak.

"Are you one of Faide's spirits or demons," The elf said, getting to his feet.

"The Spirit of Mercy," I replied.

After all, getting into the Fade itself is already crazy enough, so self-awareness will have to be rebuilt. So why not rely on this treatment in choosing the path. And Fade shuddered before my eyes, acknowledging my decision.

"Or maybe you're a demon who's unsuccessfully pretending? The clothes are too weird. Spirits sometimes imitate people, and they don't look like it."

"Considering that I fell asleep with my clothes on, and jeans were obviously new to magicians, I should have expected something like this. Go already, you suspicious magician. You don't have to fight me, and you don't have to expose me. It might be interesting to follow you. I don't need your body, but I want to see how your ordeal ends."

The magician clearly felt out of place and did not seek to fight. Cautiously, looking back at me from time to time, the elf went down the path. I followed him. Soon, the magician fought off a light that tried to roast him with lightning, and met a mouse. Apparently, he had some kind of brains, just like in the game, so he obviously didn't believe in the mouse in the Fade and prepared to attack. But then the mouse turned into a man in a robe, and began to diligently convince the magician that in front of him was just another magician-a student who had failed the test. The persuasion turned out to be successful, and the slightly calmed magician and the mouse got ready to move on. Here I felt the moral need to intervene, after all, I was portraying the Spirit of Mercy.

"And why do you need a demon of pride?" There was a question.

"T-the demon of pride?" The magician shuddered.

"Yes. Only they, striving to become small and harmless, strive in their maximalism to become as small and harmless as mice. Besides, weren't you surprised by the mouse in the Fade?"

"They told me that you can't trust anything in the Fade..."

Then the mouse began to dramatically increase in size. The magician took off and ran.

"I wonder if he won't fly into some demon of rage?" I said thoughtfully.

"There's just one here. Why did you disrupt my entertainment, rookie?" The demon growled.

"Calm down, you didn't seem like you were going to move into him."

"I wasn't going to, it would have been an empty loss of body from the Templars' swords anyway. By the way, I didn't expect to see a new one like me — Faide too rarely generates spirits."

We fell silent. The wreckage of my mind was convulsively aware of the situation.

"And what's in store for me in the Fade?"

"Over time, one of the character traits of the new spirit becomes more acute and the rest fade. Less often — several character traits. This is how we gradually choose our path. However, I can't tell you more about it — the newcomers haven't appeared for a long time, since this black muck has fully formed and hung over us, Fade doesn't call new children. It seems that your appearance means that the city is beginning to crumble."

"And what is the overall situation?" I asked.

"After all, the demon wanted to talk, and I wasn't in danger of becoming possessed-either this was all a dream, or I was dead. In general? Magic is dying, a Black City is above the Fade, the deities are either asleep, dead, or cursed. After all, faith changes the world, especially Fade."

"Are you saying that this is all the work of faith in the Creator? And the legends that the Black City was Golden?"

"That's exactly what I want to say. There has never been a Golden City here in my memory. I suspect that faith immediately made him Black. However, you may not believe me, because I am a demon of Pride. By the way, I suggest we see what the magician is doing there", He suddenly lost interest in the conversation.

"He's afraid of you," I replied to the demon. "So you'll have to watch from afar."

I still didn't understand what the demon had done, but the image of the running magician suddenly zoomed in and seemed to come before my eyes. The elf moved in short bursts, hiding behind statues and clutching a staff in his hands. It seems that he managed to come to an agreement with the Spirit of Valor. The demon and I watched the magician with interest. Soon he reached the bear. Apparently, the incident with the mouse had taught him something, so a powerful clot of magic flew from the top of the staff at the laziness demon. It was instantly clear that the demon was only pretending to be asleep. Showered with smaller magical projectiles, the demon nevertheless reached the elf and struck him in the legs with a heavy paw. The magician's leg that I cured broke for the second time, but that didn't stop him from releasing another clot. This was more than enough for the demon, and the bear froze on the ground in a pile of fur. Then, this mech slowly began to dissolve into the "air" of the Fade.

"He will be reborn," the demon commented. "Although not soon. But the magician has no chance — the demon of rage is even stronger, you can't take him with a couple of magic arrows. The magician is too weak to pass the test. Besides, he shouldn't have gotten into a fight with the demon of laziness."

Instead of answering, I headed down the path to the magician sitting on the multicolored ground. As I approached, he pointed his staff at me, but did not attack. Apparently, trying to get closer would have led to an attack from the elf, which I didn't want. Then I mentally reached out to the magician's leg again, wishing that it would recover.

A terrible weakness came over me, I staggered and almost fell. It's good that it's difficult to lose consciousness in a dream. But the goal was achieved — the bone fell into place and the magician's wound was rapidly healing. I staggered back to the demon, while the magician flexed his restored limb.

"I was wrong," the demon of pride growled. "You're not a spirit."

"And who?" I asked.

"I don't know! Magicians live off the energies of the other side of the veil, and conjure with the energies of the Fade. Spirits, on the contrary, live by the energies of this side, and conjure by the energies of that side, bringing it into a Fade. Blood mages transfer life energy to the Fade and in return receive either the life energy affected by the Fade or the energy of the Fade. What the spirits of the forest, who were once like us, are doing is not clear at all. And you live by the energies of the Fade, which is not surprising without a body, and you conjure them. You look like a magician who lost his body and learned to live like a demon. And an inept magician — you act with brute force on pure desire. But it doesn't happen that way! One thing I know is that it's useless to move into you — you don't have a connection to your body."

"Lost his body, you say..."

Did I really leave the gas on? Strangely enough, the realization of my own death did not unsettle me — it still seemed to me that it was a dream.

Meanwhile, the magician got to the demon of rage. Or, to be more precise, the demon of rage got to him — there were no lights anymore, but the magician's staff was knocked out, the robe on his chest was burned, and the magician himself was convulsively collecting mana for another magic projectile. He did not collect it — the demon's fiery paw struck him in the chest, causing a serious burn and knocking him back several meters.

"Your job? That the magician flew away like that?" I asked the demon.

"Yes. Let the rage run away — it's more fun that way. Now a stupid demon will try to possess him. And I'll push the demon away."

I took off and ran to the magician. The demon of pride also leads to the demon of rage. By the time I got to the magician, the demon of rage also got to him and managed to touch him. It seemed to me that the demon began to blur, and his flame flowed inside the magician, but then the demon of rage was thrown back by a powerful kick from the demon of pride, who overtook me.

"Overdoing it, didn't take into account the statues" He growled as he looked at the demon of rage impaled on the statue's arm.

But I wasn't interested in that-I reached out to the magician, urging his body to recover. But it was all in vain-the giant burn wouldn't heal, and I was getting weaker. In desperation, I put my hands on the burn and tried to repair it. And it was as if I was drawn inside the elf. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was the surprised face of the demon of Pride.

Chapter 1.1 About magicians and templars.

I woke up to the fact that someone was diligently pushing me aside. However, I didn't want to open my eyes, so the pushing continued.

"Irline Surana! Wake up immediately, Irving wants to see you!" They spoke loudly in my ear.

Looks like yesterday's walk through the Fade wasn't a dream... At least the name isn't canonical Alim! I had to open my eyes. I adjusted to my eyes for a while, and then I could see who had woken me up. On my bed, if that's what you could call a structure made of several planks and two pieces of coarse cloth, sat a very familiar character from the game — Jovan, a runaway blood magician and hapless poisoner. However, this is a matter for the future. He was sitting next to my right leg and, bending over, was pushing me in the side with his left hand. I abruptly bent my legs and sat up in bed. Jovan, whose right arm I had kicked, hissed something through his teeth.

"Good morning, Jovan. Is there something wrong with the arm?"

"The templar on the second floor is with my arm. I got too close to one of the guards, so he decided to kick the magician without leaving his place. At least I was expecting a punch, so I didn't fall. Otherwise, I would be holding my ribs right now."

"And would you be looking for a healer?"

"No, of course not. Why would I take up Wynn's time with a few kicks? Others need it more. A broken rib can be survived. And just a bruise on my arm, even more so."

"Okay. Will you take me to the First Caster?"

"Have you already forgotten the way? the student asked. — Or does a newly minted magician necessarily need an entourage? Don't overdo it — according to the Templars, three magicians next to each other is already a conspiracy. Naturally, the advice of Senior Spell Casters doesn't count."

"Although there are enough of them for two non-existent conspiracies."

"By the way, please tell me about the Torture," Jovan asked.

"You know I have no right," I replied.

"But I'm your only friend!"

But this is interesting information. However, considering that the three magicians are already a conspiracy, something like this should have been expected. Only Jovan knows the magician whose place I take, so it's enough to distance yourself from him... Moreover, he will soon be too carried away by his novice, if he has not already been carried away.

"I have no right. Are you seeing me off?"

* * *

Jovan turned out to be a good guide, and it would have been extremely difficult for me to get to Irving's office without him — the floors of the Tower differed from those in the game not only in their significantly larger size, but also in their layout. However, the basic principle of moving quietly around the Tower was extremely simple — away from the templars.

In practice, this meant that instead of moving through the corridors, at the first opportunity they entered large rooms with at least two doors, the templars usually stood between the doors in groups of three or four.

Rushing through the classroom, where the templars were forced to keep a vigilant eye on the students and teachers, unable to distract ourselves from the rest of the magicians, we reached the entrance to the central hall on the first floor. Unlike in the game, there were no bookshelves in the hall, just a silent guard of warriors in leather armor decorated with the image of a flaming sword.

We walked exactly through the center of the hall and approached the stairs to the second floor. And then the Templars' favorite game began — "Hit this magician, he still won't answer." Moreover, judging by the behavior of Jovan, who was walking in front, the magicians had no right to try to dodge. This time, everything went well — he managed to walk right between a pair of templars, of whom there were three on each side of the stairs, and step forward sharply at a precisely timed moment so that the Templars' blows landed in the void. Considering that all this had to be done without looking up, Jovan's success testified to a lot of practice. Then the Templars stepped aside to make room for the next couple.

I slowed my pace slightly and walked calmly down the center of the stairs. And here one of the features of the elven body appeared. The narrow field of vision with its excellent acuity makes Dahlian hunters the best archers of Thedas, but if you're a mage who needs to keep an eye on two templars at once, it turns into a disadvantage. Finding myself right between the templars, I took a sharp step forward as soon as the one I was watching moved his legs. And I didn't lose — I dodged the punches.

"Lucky for you, elves," Jovan said quietly as we climbed the stairs. "You have a wonderful reaction. It's easy for you to get away from a blow by pretending that it was an accident."

"It's when the Templars strike at the same time," I said.

"When they don't hit at the same time, it's hard for everyone. But the elves have almost no stamina — you lose consciousness so quickly that the disgruntled templars kick you unconscious, and it usually hits harder, because they can't stop in time."

"It's like they want to stop."

"They don't want to kill us-firstly, there's less of a living toy, and secondly, too many corpses can raise certain questions among the Denerim priestesses."

"Well, yes, corpses can be attributed to the destruction of blood mages, but too many "blood mages" will cause an unfavorable opinion about the quality of the templars' work."

"I don't know if it's lucky or unlucky, but Wynn can heal almost anything. So the Templars are completely free, you just don't have to kill on the spot."

During this conversation, we went up to the second floor, on the way to which we had to fall silent. This time it was even easier to avoid the blows of the Templars — we approached from behind. Going out to the second floor in a circular hall divided into two parts, we passed a calmly standing tranquil and slipped into the circular corridor of this floor. A tranquil... It's a terrible fate. No one deserves this, even to save themselves from demons. The price is exorbitant — turning into an obedient, initiative-free and emotionless being. An almost perfect slave, able to work with lyrium.

Jovan did not move along the corridor, immediately opening the door to one of the large rooms adjacent to the outer wall of the Tower. It turned out to be the library of the Tower, with huge shelves of books lining all the walls.

"What a blessing that some people consider only the Song of Light worthy of reading and ignore everything else."

"That is, the templars are incredibly bored here," I replied to Jovan.

"That's why they're not here."

For the next few minutes, we walked through the library, which occupied half of the exterior of the tower. Given that, unlike in the game, the living quarters of ordinary magicians were on the ground floor, the entire second floor was allocated for the library, the entrance to the storerooms, the Wynn hospital, small rooms of Senior Casters, themselves fenced off from their "possessions", the room of the First Caster, guest rooms and the church. There weren't many Magicians in the library, probably due to the early hour. After I exchanged brief greetings with the elf student and received congratulations on completing my apprenticeship from the man in the robes of a Senior Caster, we left the library without meeting anyone else. Again, in reality, Eadric, an unfriendly elf student turned out to be gray-haired. Going out into the corridor, we passed the guest chambers, next to which there were no templars, and almost immediately slipped into the room adjacent to the storerooms — the patrimony of Leora.

The youngest of the Older Spellcasters turned out to be a thin, white-haired elf with equally white skin and emerald eyes, the only bright spot in her appearance. Dressed in a snow-white robe of the standard style for magicians of the Circle, the girl from a distance resembled a pale skinny moth. Apparently, she hadn't had any problems with spiders yet, so Leora was in a good mood.

"Congratulations on passing the Torture," she greeted me. "Have you come for rations?"

Jovan closed the door behind us, and I moved closer to Leora.

"Thank you. We're not eating, it's just that Irving called."

"Why don't you give him some Templar food to celebrate his ordeal?" The magician said, stopping a dozen steps away from me and pretending to study a nearby shelf. It seemed that even in a closed room, he didn't want to risk being assigned to the three communicating magicians.

"Jovan, stop bullying," I said.

"How many times do I have to tell each individual student that the Templar food is stored in the coldest place of the Tower, in the part of the cellars that extends under the lake" Leora raised her eyes to the ceiling. "They are guarded along with dangerous artifacts and slightly worse than phylacteries. What can you do — valuable perishable products, they need cold."

My storerooms are right in the rock, into which the Tower is partially built, at the level of the first and second floors. And you won't find anything but bread, vegetables and cereals there.

"Do you have to talk often?"

"Oh, right, you haven't made any such attempts. On average, once a month, someone tries to sneak into the storerooms for food for the Templars. Of course, I understand that thoughts about meat occupy the mind, but you have to think well. Who's going to trust me with meat? But there are almost no Templars here. But still, you shouldn't linger without a goal — they might wonder what took you so long. And if there is a "conspiracy"? Besides, you should hurry to Irving."

"Okay, we'll go. See you later, Leora."

After leaving the elf's domain through another door, we went back out into the corridor and continued on our way. Jovan stopped in front of the next door.

"I don't want to go like this. The healing chambers are not a pleasant sight," said the magician. "But there's a templar down the hall who's already hurt me today. I suggest we go around."

"Yeah, we don't need any extra meetings."

He opened the door and we entered the realm of wooden beds, the smell of medicinal potions and the quiet moans of patients covered with light blankets. Halfway through the room, we passed the fence and saw the mistress of these places, the Elder Enchantress Wynn. The healer was sitting by the bedside of a gray-haired elf girl who looked to be about ten or eleven years old. Her right arm was broken at the forearm and slightly bent along the fracture, her left wrist was bent at an impossible angle. And below the belt...

"Who?" was all I could get out of myself.

But Wynn understood me.

"Cullen," she replied. "The main fan of young elves, although there are others. That's where my mind broke down. The beautiful tale from Biovar shattered into bloody fragments. Cullen is a templar who is touchingly in love with the magician character and gets embarrassed at the slightest hint! So that's what his crush really turned out to be! I slowly looked around the hospital beds, looking for the injuries of the magicians and realizing with horror that there were no burns, frostbite and similar injuries from magic in at least this half of the room at all. But there are enough wounds and fractures.

Now I understood how the spirit of justice inside Andreres turned into a demon of revenge... But I still wasn't a spirit, so I just went crazy. Mercy shifted in me, giving way to Hatred, and the two of them muted all other feelings.

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely," I whispered the classic quote.

"Let's go," Jovan said, seeing that I was frozen in place. "You shouldn't keep Irving waiting."

We left the healing chambers, which gave me the cutting fragments of a broken fairy tale, and the realization of the reasons why the healer Wynn looks like an old woman, and Leora bleaches her robes to the image of a pale corpse. And also an understanding of why Wynn had given up her position as First Wizard. If I had remained human, I would certainly have turned gray that day.

Finally, we reached the First Caster's office. Jovan stayed at the door, and I went through the open door. At that time, the old man was chatting with a gray-haired but sturdy man in leather armor decorated with lyrium runes. When he turned around, I saw the image of a flaming sword on his chest. And the face of Irving's interlocutor turned out to be very familiar — it was the head of all the templars of the tower, Gregoire.

First Gregoire started talking about how I was now a full-fledged magician, then I was given a robe and a staff, and then a serious conversation began. You've learned the basics of magic schools, mastered your first combat spell, and shown that you can resist demons," the First Caster began.

I don't get it, are they throwing students against a demon with a single combat spell?

"From now on, the Tower's library is fully open to you. I would like to know in which direction are you going to develop your abilities? It is not necessary to give an answer today, but I would like to know your intentions soon."

"The ordeal has made me think a lot, and this morning has provided a great opportunity to do so. I would like to become a healer."

Irving looked mildly surprised. There was silence.

"Infrequent choice, infrequent. They usually learn elemental magic, mostly fire magic and curses."

As if one or the other would help against the Templars! Irving was silent for a while longer.

"Well, you have access to the library, and you can contact Wynn about healing magic, she's a master."

"I've had enough practice," I almost whispered.

Chapter 1.2 A new life in the Circle of magicians.