Oswit (short story)

Spoiler: Campaign 1

I grimaced at the sight before me; it was horrifying. I had seen so much, but all the same it felt like so little. You hear stories, sure, but to see it.... the stories aren't wrong.
I looked at Templar-Captain Kalidras as if he'd have something to say to make the situation better. He simply shook his head. Three dead Templars laid in the ruins of the now charred remains of the small town of Ironstep. It isn't much of a town anymore. This is the price for not getting here sooner.
It's a very well-known story to everyone in the Order: a young child is put under stress, they come into their magical powers in destructive ways, and those around the child violently lash out at them. It was no different here. A barn caught fire in a winter afternoon, the doing of a young girl falling into magic and not knowing any better. When there's little to eat in the first place and the food stores go up in flames, people get angry. They begin pointing fingers. They want blood. Three of our's got caught in the cross-fire. Two of our own died because the townsfolk were out for blood. The third got trapped in a building that collapsed on him in order to get the girl out. He could've gotten out, but she was scared. She saw the Templar brand and trapped him in the building. He could still be here with us.
Kalidras went to lighting a torch, "They'll turn Ceaseless soon."
Those are words no one ever wants to here, especially when you look under the helmet and you know their story. I knew their fathers well. To have your child die before you is a pain no person should ever have to feel. I pulled an amulet from underneath my armor and clutched it hoping for some divine intervention.
"Why do they hate us?" I had to ask Kalidras. I saw how the girl looked at us when she saw our symbol. Never once did we brandish our weapons. We did everything we could to help the girl be safe. Cilian risked his life, and for what? To be killed for his bravery?
The smoke began to rise from the bonfires. The dancing light from the fire shined off Kalidras's armor as he spoke, "I'm not sure I know who you're referring to, but either way the answer is the same. They don't understand us."
"We're trying to help her... them! If not for us, she'd be dead. The world isn't a place for people like her. Not in the eyes of the public." I listed off town after town that I had heard of where some terrible incident happened due the presence of magic. As I went, I could feel myself continuing on for much longer than I would've liked. It didn't feel good making this point.
"You speak those words from a place of privilege. You can return to your home at any time. They would not have that same luxury. You could put your life on the line a thousand times over and you'll never get their gratitude. You have to accept that. In this role, you'll never be the hero."
"So then why do we all do this?"
"I can't answer that for you, but most I ask that same question to find their strength in two ways. First, the brotherhood and sisterhood amongst Templars can allow us to transcend any background to understand the struggles that are universal throughout this world. Secondly, they long for the day where if their children will join the Order, their child won't be looked at in the same way we are now. They want their children to be able to coexist peacefully with the mages of this world. So long as mages see us as the villain, there will always be violence. So long as that violence exists, we have to operate as we do."
"But whose side are we even on?"
"We have to put our lives on the line to protect every side of this struggle. Just try not to let your fears of one overpowering the other get to you too easily. Some of our own have, I think, but it comes from a place of fear and worry. Don't let yourself down that path, or else the perception of us will never change."
Some people will believe that things never change... that we'll never change. I think they're wrong.