The Desk of Phaedra Hawke

Mistakes Made

First Day 9:28 Dragon
Aged 17

I have been stationed at the Redcliffe chantry for nearly three years now. Life has been good, but at times lonely. The other knights here are pleasant enough, but many are older and keep their distance. I am not sure what purpose it serves when I am here for the same reason as they are. Perhaps it is because they view me as merely a young girl. This is true, but it is not all I am. I still have faith that their opinions may change, but I will not be holding my breath in anticipation.

During the daylight hours, I observe the chantry and all of the people who come to pray. Many of them are villagers, but some are knights in the arl’s service. I try to pay no particular attention to them during prayer as it feels as though I am somehow intruding upon their thoughts. Yet there is one in particular my eyes always travel to. His name is Ser Perth, I believe. He comes into the chantry more often than any of his brothers-in-arms. He is handsome enough with his long, angled face and red hair, but I have no particular want for him. I merely wonder what he prays for, as terrible as that sounds. I wonder what weighs so heavily on his mind that he feels he must kneel before Andraste. I wonder what he feels he must atone for.

There are many things I must atone for of late. Most recently, I received word from my mother that my father has gone to the Maker’s side. The letter was dated longer ago than I care to mention here, and I cannot imagine how it came into my hands at all. When I wrote my last letter to them, I did not yet know where I would be assigned. I suppose my name is unique enough that I was easy to locate.

Even after over two years of silence, Father told Mother on his death bed that he would leave the welfare of the family to me. I have had trouble deciding if this is a final act of faith on his part or a punishment. I have done nothing to deserve such responsibility. I am not even in close enough proximity to be of benefit to them. At best, I could send them a portion of my pay. I do not have any particular use for coin anyway. Everything I own, the Order provides.

I realize now the decision to cease contact was childish and cowardly, but I will wait until I have collected my thoughts properly to respond. I claimed strength in my convictions yet I ran from my family when faced with their scrutiny. This was not an act becoming of someone wearing the sun shield. Vigilance does not simply stop at the protection of mages. If I wish to be worthy of my title, I will correct this mistake and fulfill my father’s last wish, whether I take pleasure in the task or not.

An Estranged Knight

16 Cloudreach 9:25 Dragon
Aged 15

Last night’s vigil was everything the other recruits had feared. Rumors buzzed around the monastery the day I left, telling of a night when all of those worthy would go before the Denerim altar. Each prospective knight would stand vigil until sunrise, unable to do anything but pray. Everyone made it seem like the ultimate punishment save being cast into the Void, but I never understood. To me, it seemed peaceful—and it was.

I stood with three of my fellow recruits at the altar, no light to see by save for a few candles. All of us had bowed our heads before Andraste. We were silent in prayer until Merrick began to snore. I had to punch his arm until he woke. The others laughed, but chances are good he will not be receiving his full knighthood tomorrow with the rest of us.

The others complained once it was over, but I found the vigil to be among the most peaceful experiences of my life. The flickering candlelight somehow made my prayers seem more—personal. As though the statue of Andraste would step down from its pedestal to hear me. Perhaps that is what feels like to be in the Maker’s sight. I wish everyone could know the peace I did, but if my brothers-in-arms are any indication, I am a minority.

I prayed for what everyone prays for: health, happiness, the strength to resist temptation, and family. Maker, did I pray for family. I have not received any letters since I sent word of my departure to Denerim. I worry that they are on the run again, but perhaps I have merely angered them again. It would not be the first time, and I suspect it will not be the last.

Mother is the only one in the family who writes to me, though Father often sends his regards. She has not spoken openly about my decision in a few years, but her disappointment is clear. She often finds reasons to scold me, particularly when I speak of the hardships that come with my service. In different words, she tells me how much better off I would have been if I had stayed home. I admit there were once days when I believed her, but my convictions are strong. I know what I am doing is right.

Sometimes I wonder if it might be best that I stop writing to them. After all, my family has good reasons to be angry, reasons I would not write here for purposes of security. If I just faded away, perhaps my parents could finally forget they ever bore a Templar. Carver might even forget he had a shadow to live in. What family of mine would want to read of the exploits of a mage hunter? Maker preserve me if I am ever called to perform such a duty.

After the knighthood ceremony, I believe it is time for our correspondence to end.