Where it begins..., Wilhelmina!

[Xavier Ó Callanáin]

So here she was finally. I had been sent word from the First Warden, a rare occasion for the Ferelden Grey Wardens. Another warden was being sent, at his behest, with information. One of the single greatest mysteries of the Fifth Blight was the survival of Elissa Cousland The Hero and Queen of Ferelden.

It was long believed by the Wardens that the only way to kill an Archdemon was for a Warden to deal the killing blow. For if any other dealt the blow, the essence of the Old God would pass through the taint and be resurrected again within the body of the nearest darkspawn. The dragon could then mould the body and live again. The Old Gods were essentially then practically immortal. The Wardens knew differently however. If the final blow is struck by a Warden the essence of the Old God would instead seek out the body of the Grey Warden. The body of a Grey Warden, containing a living soul, was not malleable like an empty vessel like a darkspawn. When the Old God entered the body of the Grey Warden both the essence of the Old God and the soul of the Warden would be destroyed; ending the Blight, but at the sacrifice of one of our own.

This was a silent and hidden burden of the Order for centuries. Much like the secret process of the Joining, it was all but forbidden to speak of this to anyone. Recruits never knew what they were in for when they submitted to it. Right up until they were presented with that accursed goblet and finally told the truth - either they would die from the corruption or they would survive and become a Grey Warden. I knew upon hearing the tales of the Wardens that it would entail much sacrifice, but for a deeply pious mage like myself submitting to what was essentially blood magic, was not an easy decision to swallow, both literally and figuratively. Survive however and you're left with a false immunity to the taint and a connection to the collective mind of the darkspawn, allowing us to hear them in the shadows.

Thus this was the silent vigil we held against the darkness for centuries. Elissa Cousland however changed all of this. Newly betrothed to the yet-to-be crowned Alistair Theirin, two of the three remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden marched upon the City of Denerim, told in advance by the Orlesian Grey Warden Riordan that whoever struck the final blow against Urthemiel would perish along with it, but in doing so they would save Thedas from the ravages of another decades long war against the darkspawn.

Riordan had offered to make the sacrifice mostly I assume due to his age, the taint would have claimed him sooner rather than later, a fate I am not relishing, but I do not waste my time in constant fear of death. I would make a poor Warden were that the case. This would not be the case however as he ended up falling to his death from the heights of Fort Drakon near the Royal Palace of Denerim having daringly attacked the beast and tearing down one of its wings crippling it in the process. This sacrifice however made Alistair and Elissa's ensuing battle much simpler. When the dust had settled and it was clear the dragon was wounded and prone, Elissa drew her sword and drove the blade into the Dragon's head, ending its life, the Blight with it and causing the darkspawn horde to disperse and flee back underground towards the Deep Roads.

The most astounding thing was that when the dust settled Elissa Cousland was still standing. The Old God was indeed dead and gone and the darkspawn with it, so how was she still alive? Garahel had made the same sacrifice four centuries earlier and his body was found flung across the battlefield after the dust had finally settled and the darkspawn horde was broken.

Eventually rumours had spread that a daughter of the legendary Flemeth, the witch of the wilds, had offered a ritual to Elissa that would spare both of the lives of the young monarchs. Were Alistair to lay with Morrigan the night before the battle a child would be conceived bearing the taint. The essence of the Old God would seek out the unborn child instead sparing both their lives giving Morrigan a child born with the soul of an Old God; and thus Elissa did what the Order considered impossible, she slew an Archdemon and lived.

But now, some twenty years later, Elissa, Morrigan and the child are all gone. That is the mystery we must now uncover and finally we have been sent information and, apparently, aid from the First Warden himself.

I knew little, only that she was a mage from the Imperium, descended from Magisters no less. From my own experiences with others I expected fear and distrust from the woman, for all I knew she was more than likely a blood mage. It would do me no good to bite the hand that holds what I require so I would have to at least be cordial. Culann of course had other plans. Knowing nothing of tact he bounded up to the woman, barking excitedly. He proceeded to sniff the woman inquisitively and simply sat in front of her and barked staring back at me for approval. She seemed caught off guard, which is understandible, only Fereldens don't recoil at the sight of an approaching Mabari. I laughed and tried to contain the hound.

"That's enough boy, don't scare off our visitor. She's not a darkspawn."

Culann bowed his head before the woman, looking for approval and, evidently, forgiveness.

"You I assume would be the messenger sent from Weisshaupt? I'm lead to believe you have information about the Witch, and the child no less?"

She sighed evidently relieved she was not pinned down by the hound and petted him cautiously which caused me to chuckle.

"Culann will cause you no harm. If he believed you were dangerous, you'd be lying on your back and his jaws would be around your throat. Sometimes he does it just to test recruits. For a War Hound he has quite the wicked sense of homour."

[Wilhelmina Spector]

There had been much genocide practised in the name of mages these last few years. The war that had been sparked by the abomination Anders had sent shock-waves through the world, leaving the Andrastian chantry defenceless from the angry mob of mages who justifiably agreed that the chantry's teachings were against the very fabric of the mage. Who in the name of the old gods agreed to such nonsense about the way the mages usurped heaven and infiltrated the Golden City? I sure didn't agree with it. Though I may have been raised as a magister's fledgeling, and protégé, I did not practise the magic abhorred and feared, reviled in all countries but Tevinter. Instead, I chose to use my talents for the best purposes, and right now, standing in the freezing cold snow that blew in off the coastlands, I questioned my judgement in joining the Grey Wardens six years ago. My lightweight cloak had been the wrong choice, I realised bitterly, walking through three feet of snow, dragging on the ground and heavier than ever.

Ferelden was not a country I had been to. I had been told I was born here, but I had no memories of Ferelden, let alone the steep cliffs that jutted out overlooking the ocean on one side, and the mountains behind me. To the west, the Frostback Mountains were like some sugar-covered confection, full of snow and ice, blowing the cold westerly winds that carried the stench of wet dog and wet wool. I wasn't sure which stench was worse: dog or lanolin-- though there was nothing like the sewers of Minrathous, full of rotting and bloated decomposing bodies, the stench was like nothing else. But that was not why I was there, I had come at the behest of the First Warden, though how he had arrived at the conclusion to send me to Ferelden was something I questioned. Had he just done what the Andrastian Chantry did when the Divine chose her name, and plucked my name out of a hat? It puzzled me that he would send a Tevinter Warden to the Ferelden Commanders of the Grey-- and it puzzled me further that he had seen it fit to name two people to the post. He was getting senile, I thought.

Shivering as one of the war-dogs the Ferelden people kept as both pets and mobile attack squads approached me, though I was used to Khan, I couldn't help but recoil slightly at the stench that emanated off him. His barking and bounding around me, as if taunting me to play with him, I gave him a cautious pat, before looking up at the man who spoke. I had been sent here by the First Warden to give help in finding the erstwhile Queen of Ferelden-- the woman who had slain Urthemiel and lived-- and the Commander of the Grey, for they were one and the same. Asha'Bellanar was not yet located, nor was her daughter and the elusive child. We had word of a sighting in the Dragonbone Wastes, not far from the Blackmarsh in Amaranthine, but when scouts were sent to verify the findings, they found nothing. Just as the Chantry Seekers had found no trace of Marian Hawke, we Grey Wardens had found nothing of the erstwhile Queen. I had spoken with King Alistair, and found him greatly diminished by the loss of his wife. I felt sad for him, for he had lost the one great love of his life.

But my mind returned to the task at hand when the man spoke, his Ferelden accent jarring to my ears. "That would be me," I replied drily, cupping my hands around my mouth, and blowing ineffective warm air on them. I suppose I could easily have simply made a fireball dance on my hands, but I wished to remain unobtrusive, preferring to be thought of as a scholar first, and a mage second-- the granddaughter of a Tevinter Magister, however powerful, tended to make those ignorant fools squirm in horror at the thought of the preconceived notion that I would be a blood mage based on the horror stories people heard of Tevinter. We were actually quite a nice country, honestly!

Before I could divulge any of what I knew, I would settle for a hot meal, a warm bed, and a place where I could put all my parcels and packages. I had a donkey following behind me, with the scrolls, phylacteries, and other things that were important. Dusk in Ferelden was pretty, a gradual darkening of the sky, lit with the stars that started twinkling like so many ice crystals in the morning sun. "A hot meal would be nice. I've been travelling nigh on three weeks now." I spoke again, exhaustion threatening. "Your hound has a noble name. Culann is a good, strong name for a good, strong dog." I knew from my rudimentary study of Ferelden custom that it was far more important to win the dog's favour than the favour of the owner. Mabari were smart, and Stephan's mabari hound shared similar characteristics to the hound in front of me. He would be stubborn, I knew that. "I'm Wilhelmina. Formerly of Tevinter, now of the Grey Wardens. I take it you're Xavier?" My tone changed to brusque, businesslike. We would undoubtedly dance around the issue I had been sent here for, for it was not a subject we could discuss in one evening alone.

[Xavier Ó Callanáin]

Maker, for the life of me I do not understand how the First Warden expects foreigners, much less those from as far north as Tevinter, to survive in these conditions. To the rest of Thedas Fereldan was a land of barbarians and dogs. One would think the Wardens in the Anderfels would at least warn those they sent here of the cold. Robes are generally far more comforting than your standard issue chainmail, but gauging from the look on the woman's face she was half considering starting a fire - the fast and dangerous way no less.

From what I knew about the woman oddly enough I initially thought she would likely get along better with Guinevere. They shared many traits and many of the demons they were fleeing were similar. I stopped myself and chuckled slightly realising how wrong I was. "No, no mental note. Make sure Guinevere is not alone when she meets the woman." I finished muttering under my breath hoping to remember that Guinevere Mac Tir, the proud niece of the once revered Hero of River Dane, would likely greet her with a blade pressed against her neck if she suspected she was a blood mage. In truth I believed Guinevere would likely have done the same thing to me had Culann not been there to break the ice as it were. But I at least was a native Fereldan; the mere notion that a Tevinter mage was in her presence would leave her on edge, I suspect.

I silently cursed my own lack of courtesy realising that after her own lengthy journey, halfway across Thedas no less, that immediately dealing with matters at hand was not exactly high on her priorities. "My apologies. You are right, we can tend to the important issues at hand first. Elissa Cousland has been missing for nearly 15 years; but as tragic as that is, the search for her can wait while we get something to warm you up." I consciously made a thought to search for more fitting robes of a mage living in northern Ferelden. As I lead her inside I beckoned for one of the other Wardens to make sure Dinner was being prepared. As I lead her inside and towards my quarters I tried to continue the idle conversation. "He was named after my father's hound that we had when I was a child. The pup reminded me of him when I was given the hound as an honorary gift by Teryn Cousland upon being given this position."

I motioned for her to take a seat. The recruits, especially the younger ones, refer to me as their "favourite headmaster". Being called to my quarters should have meant being lectured for being reckless or strictly being given instructions pertaining to Warden business, but usually it resulted in being gestured toward a large upholstered chair and being handed a mug of something hot and sweet.

Guinevere was the serious taskmaster determined to keep the Wardens strong in Ferelden, I was simply the more keen orator sent to deal with Denerim and the landsmeet when the King needed word of our progress or when the nobility were bickering over something I cared little about. I only ever cringed when being called to Alistair himself as it usually meant having to remind him we were no closer to finding his beloved Queen.

The journey clearly had taken its toll. She quite willingly sunk into the large chair obviously relishing no longer having to stand. I searched through a cupboard behind my desk ruffling through it finding a spare set of robes and a pair of fur lined gloves, draping them over the arm of the chair should she wish for something more fitting of the Ferelden climate.

"Yes, I am indeed. It will be a refreshing change having another mage present at the Keep. You are not the only mage who has been accused of dabbling in dark arts and I was raised and taught in the Ferelden Circle. Despite this I still notice the reviled looks from the nobility when visiting Denerim. I might as well be a blood mage in their eyes, a mage with a title gets compared to the Magisters of your homeland quite often."

I could clearly see that discussing the matters at hand were not something she particularly wanted do at the moment so I would not rush the subject.

[Wilhelmina Spector]

The senility of the First Warden became grating at times. A doddering fool well past his Calling, he stayed stubbornly at the helm of the organisation, he cared more for the people of the Anderfels than he did for the order he supposedly lead. More and more, I had noticed he was making decisions which benefited the people of the Anderfels instead of the Order, a thing that had the older wardens wondering how to gently nudge him into walking the Deep Roads. My grandmother had been the same, towards the end of her life, and it frustrated and infuriated me that the First Warden had sent only a treasurer to aid the Queen when she had been appointed Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Twenty years ago, he had been making those same errors, and I shared the frustrations of all wardens not stationed at Weisshaupt Fortress. He seemed incapable of making any decent decisions, and quietly, those of us at Weisshaupt jokingly started scheming to pack him off to the Deep Roads, to his final battle, alone in the dark, putting away as many of the 'spawn as he could.

I didn't catch what the mage mumbled under his breath, but it didn't seem to be anything of import. Something about the prickly reputation of the other Warden Commander-- a Mac Tir, of all things-- and something about introducing the two of us. I mentally shuddered at the thought. I had heard tales of Guinevere Mac Tir, and her burning desire to prove to Ferelden and Thedas that not all Mac Tirs were evil, that not all Mac Tirs betrayed their kings and sons-in-law on a battlefield. I smiled grimly at his words about the queen being missing for fifteen years. It was a long time for a Queen to be missing. I followed him into the keep, grateful for the warmth that soon enveloped me.

"Thank you for your hospitality. I am honoured to be in the presence of another mage, and one who is known to be a kind man." Xavier's reputation had preceded him, the skilled orator who had taken great pains to soothe the Landsmeet's outrage that a mage could dare hold the title of Warden-Commander and Arl of Amaranthine. Of course, in Tevinter, mages were not confined to the barbaric custom of the tower, watched over by ever-vigilant Templars, always suspicious of magics they did not understand or even respect. "What caused the Teryn of Highever to give you a Mabari?" I asked, giving the dog a belly rub as he rolled over on his back, nodding at Xavier's history and rationale for his name. It seemed fitting that the so-called Dog Lords of Thedas would take pride in naming their dogs for great heroes of legend and tale. The Teryn of Highever had given the mage the dog, and it seemed a great gift.

I sank willingly into the chair before the fire, rubbing my hands and extending them in gratitude for the warmth. Xavier bustled around, searching in the cupboard for gloves and warm robes, and I smiled in gratitude. I had not expected such warm hospitality, for my experiences in Weisshaupt Fortress had taught me otherwise. In the Anderfels, we lived austere lives, with very little to call our own. When I had joined, it was explained to me that I was to forget whatever life I had lead before this one. I had done so, but at cost. A smile, probably a tired one, crossed my face as he spoke of having another mage around. It would be nice to be in the company of one who had the same gifts I had, understood the plight that we faced every day. Or so I was lead to believe, at least, by those who had been educated not at the foot of a Magister, but in the barbaric and outdated Circle of Magi. A likeminded individual, or at least another mage, would undoubtedly be a boon to the Ferelden Grey Wardens, as the mages were sorely lacking.

"It forever baffles me that they haven't sent the First Warden to his Calling. He's well past going, but he hangs on stubbornly to life and the rule in the Anderfels." I commented, sipping the hot mug of whatever Xavier had passed me gratefully. My hands started to return to life, and my toes were gradually regaining feeling. "I wonder why he wouldn't tell you who was in charge here? But there are a lot of things that puzzle me about him. During the years when your queen was rebuilding the Order, I had expected him to be better at assigning tasks. It seems he has not even deigned to determine which one of you is the leader here in Ferelden. But it is nice to be in the company of other mages. I hear you're quite skilled at soothing the hurt feelings of poor nobles in the Landsmeet-- and that the Mac Tir woman is the taskmaster. I have to say, I'm surprised at that." I sipped my drink, grateful for the warmth, and the tinge of lyrium I could taste in it.

[Xavier Ó Callanáin]

I chuckled slightly. Every time I glance at a recruit or another Warden I make one fool assumption and then they start speaking and proving me wrong. But I suspect there were misconceptions on both our sides. I'd half expected a descendent of a Tevinter magister to treat a child of the Andrastian Circle with disdain.

I should know better by now that I am clearly a very poor judge of character. Perhaps it is the life of a Warden that changes people. Becoming a Warden means swearing off fealties to kings and gods. Your only loyalties once you join are to the Order and the Oath it uploads.

For all the Order's talk of "political neutrality", there was little sense in trying to insist that had any weight any more. Here I stood effectively as nobility controlling the north eastern coast of Ferelden. Moreso myself as Guinevere despised having to appear in court unless she absolutely had to. Not that I could exactly blame her. For all the whispers I received standing in court before the other nobility as a mage I am certain that she absolutely did not wish to be identified as the niece of Loghain Mac Tir.

Further reinforcing why Guinevere insisted I was in charge, I clearly had far more social tact than the grating, fiery, attitude of the proud Mac Tir. Which was evident when the other mage softened her attitude and thanked me for the gracious hospitality. "I am grateful to hear as much. It is not often I am given praise. Being a Grey Warden does not generally endear me in the eyes of the nobility and being a mage does not endear me in the eyes of the commonfolk." It was painful hear myself say that. I stood in a never ending battle against the world to prove myself that I was not dangerous and that I did have the good of all in mind. But it would hardly be worthwhile to follow a path similar to Sophia Dryden or, maker forbid, the apostate Anders. So I would simply have to keep clawing away bit by bit earning respect a little at a time.

Further evidence of my social skills was of course my Mabari Culann who had clearly taken well to our newest member. He rolled on his back in a playful and relaxed position, clearly beckoning our guest for a belly rub. Of course it struck everyone as strange that a mage kept a war hound at his side and she asked how I came to own him. "He was a gift of fealty as much as a necessity. Maker knows he was more practical than the recurve I was presented by the Bann of Waking Sea. Daft woman; what did she expect a mage to use that for?" She chuckled as she nursed the mug mostly to keep her hands warm, clearly sympathising with my frustration.

If anything she clearly held far more disdain for the First Warden, the nominal leader of all the Grey Wardens of Thedas in the Anderfels. Not that I could blame her. I was told to "work it out and decide for ourselves" as to who would be in command between myself and Guinevere which left us both rather irked. So rather than fight over it we share the duty as "co-commanders"."Well they'll shove him when he no longer looks normal. Maker knows the Anders will start to notice if he begins regressing to the taint. I hope it would not get to that of course." It was far more drole than I'd intended and it elicited a chuckle from the other mage. She continued pointing out her disdain for the nominal leader of all the Grey Wardens, remarking that Elissa had done more for the Order in Ferelden than him. "It doesn't matter now. It frustrated Guinevere and I at first but its clear that she's content running things here. She is a backbone more than anything. I am content playing the bard soothing the nobility...or court jester I can never tell. Maker knows its more entertaining trading barbs with grown men over who grows the larger eggplants and who supplies the most wheat in the Bannorn." A hearty laugh came from her as she thanked me for welcoming her so openly.

[Wilhelmina Spector]

The truth was, we received very little praise as Grey Wardens unless a Blight threatened the land. It was only then that the world remembered the sacrifice we made so that they didn't have to. Ugly choice though it was, I knew in myself that I could and would throw myself at the Archdemon if it came to it. Not for heroics, no, not for accolades, but simply because it was my duty to. Duty. It was an ugly word at times. The young Circle trained mage in front of me was clearly well-spoken and a skilled orator. He seemed the type to be able to calm the storm, both figuratively and literally speaking. Like every mage trained by the Andrastian Chantry's Circles, he held very little status in the world. I had the benefit of being trained outside of the Circle, and by one of the best Magisters Tevinter had ever seen, or would see again.

I rubbed my hands in front of the flame, feeling the warmth gradually return to them. Xavier's hound lolled in front of the fire at my feet, and he could probably smell Khan on me. I leaned over to give the dog a belly rub, and he wriggled with delight. Most dogs did. There was something quite honest in the affection of a dog, and such dogs like Khan were prized amongst the Fereldans. "I understand. Being a Mage in a country ruled by the Chantry and their open anti-mage agenda must get tiring. It is not the same in Minrathous. The Orlesian Chantry wishes to keep mages on a tight leash, when we should be free to use our powers wisely for the greater good..." I may have been biased towards the Imperial Chantry, which had broken away from the Orlesian one, but with good reason: they interpreted Andraste's words about magic serving man and never ruling over him as a sign that the magi should use their powers for the greater good, and it was this that I believed was the true message. I had been raised in Minrathous, after all.

But now, I would get to the real reason for my being in this cold and inhospitable clime. It was something that left me with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, no matter how much research I had done, I was still no closer to answers. "I assume you know why I'm here?" I asked, skipping the pleasantries and getting down to business. It was time to get this thing started, and it was right to start now. After all, Morrigan, Flemeth and the Child had a twenty-year head start on us. "Her last known location was the Frostback Mountains, though where she went from there is unknown..." My voice took on the tone it often did when I began talking about this subject-- excitement mixed with a growing feeling of utter dread. What if the Child was evil?

[Xavier Ó Callanáin]

It was odd hearing those words come from a mage from Tevinter. The "greater good" she called it. From all I had heard the higher purpose the magisters of Tevinter served was their own egos. Naivete perhaps on her part. She was raised to know no different she likely had different views on blood magic altogether, but it would do me no good to call her out on hypocrisy. The Order judges no one. "Wisely and "greater good" are whichever purpose the chantry feels doesn't harm them, whether literally or figuratively. One would think a rebellion and global war would have showed them this was boiling for centuries. Dealing with the nobility is hard enough." I'm a mage in Ferelden no longer under Templar supervision. The fact that as a Warden I'm not technically considered an apostate makes the Chantry very uncomfortable.

But just as abruptly as she started Wilhelmina got straight to the point asking if I was aware of her purpose in Ferelden. "Yes, the ever elusive child. Maker knows where the witch is now or what's become of her." It was, without a doubt, the largest conundrum surrounding the Fifth Blight. How Elissa Cousland managed to survive slaying an Archdemon. From my own talks with the King we knew very little. Elissa had been approached by Morrigan offering a way to spare both their lives.

Of course our erstwhile queen had not been so secretive with Alistair instead telling him exactly why he would need to "betray" his beloved and lay with another woman. "I know as much the Wardens in the Anderfels know my dear. King Alistair sat me down and recounted in as much detail as he could of what Elissa and Morrigan had told him. The only definitive answer I was given was that the witch promised him he would never see the child again." Which appeared to be the case. It had been twenty years. Morrigan was, evidently, very adept at staying out of sight. She remarked about one of the last sightings of the witch and I nodded. "Yes, it hasn't been simple. We'd also heard she was spotted in the Dragonbone Wastes. I ventured there personally and I found nothing."

I understood why there was such a desire to find the Witch. I doubt anyone other than the chantry directly cared about whoever...or whatever the child was, but to the wardens it was important. Morrigan had thrown a thousand years of knowledge of the Wardens out the window when she had guaranteed that Elissa and Alistair would survive striking down Urthemiel. Much like the much maligned "research" of the blood mage Avernus, most of what the Wardens thought they understood in a thousand years about Darkspawn, the Blights and the Taint had been all but thrown out thanks almost all due to Elissa Cousland. If we could indeed find a way hunt the darkspawn and not die in the process it would, obviously, save countless lives.

I shook my head realising that "child" was not the way to put it. The Fifth Blight had ended 20 years ago. This "child" was now a young adult presumably aware of its power...whatever that actually entailed. "If they intended to be any threat to Ferelden or indeed Thedas I'm sure they'd have done something by now, but still this knowledge would be invaluable to the Order".

[Wilhelmina Spector]

My face, I'm sure, was frozen in a half-stunned look, eyebrow pricked upwards like the ears of a Mabari. His words made sense, though I disagreed with his philosophy with regards to magic. How could I not, when I was the proud and haughty granddaughter of one of Tevinter's most powerful magisters? It seemed to me that the First Warden had sent me here for no reason whatsoever, a doddering old warrior with barely enough sense in his damn fool head. I'm sure the First Warden had been a mighty warrior in his day, but the time had come for a change of leadership. It seemed Xavier shared my frustrations-- though I had seen and witnessed the man's decline first-hand, for he had often called upon my magic to help him when poppy milk no longer helped ease the pain that came with age and the Taint. Familiarity bred contempt, and that was all I felt towards the once-mighty First Warden.

Yet I listened, face growing darker as he started talking of what he knew. The child, Maker knew, was somewhere out there, ignorant of his destiny, or even ignorant of what he was. As Xavier detailed his already thorough search, I felt myself growing ever irritated. "The First Warden didn't tell me that the Wastes had already been searched. That was my next stop." Silently, I damned the First Warden to the Black City, to come back as a Darkspawn himself-- he would know the full extent of my ire when I returned to Weisshaupt Fortress, if he were not dead already. "It seems he neglected to tell me that you had already scouted the Wastes, and even though it has been twenty years since she was last seen, that child is a young adult now. Whatever their purpose in this world is, it brings me a deep sense of disquiet that she has not been found..."

Disquiet was one way to put it. Brood mothers had been spotted in the dark halls of forgotten Thaigs in the Deep Roads, and bands of spawn moved on the surface as they had twenty years ago. It was important we find the child, and the Queen of Ferelden, for I felt that finding one of them would lead to the other. Deeply disturbing too, was the disappearance of the Queen--- and soon the King would undoubtedly go to his Calling in the Deep Roads. I looked over at the fire, and then back to the mage that sat in a chair opposite, and stared hard at him, trying to work out what it was that made him a good commander, and a good man.

"It's a disturbing thought to realise that King Alistair is almost ready to go to his Calling. Ferelden has no heir, and so the nobles will undoubtedly squabble amongst them as to who should rule. If this child isn't found, the last Therin dies without heir, causing Ferelden instablity. That is one reason the child-- or man-- should be found, and soon. Do you intend to see the King go to his Calling without helping him?" I didn't mean to sound rude, nor did my tone convey anything but genuine sadness. Alistair was, from everything I had heard about him, a much loved ruler, and from the brief, perfunctory meeting I had had with him, he was honourable and noble in the best sense.

[Xavier Ó Callanáin]

Wilhelmina expressed her shock, and clear growing frustration, when I informed her that we had already searched the Wastes. It made sense to do so. It was situated within the Warden's own stronghold of Amaranthine. If we could search anywhere unimpeded it would be there. It did not surprise me to hear of sightings there. It was a graveyard of elder high dragons that came to let the cold claim them. The Veil was understandably thin there. Ancient Tevinter had left its mark there. There were relics of old Tevinter towers, probably used for blood magic. "I'm beginning to understand your frustration with our Order's nominal leader. The Queen personally had scouts around the Wilds and the Circle Tower. She followed rumoured sightings but found nothing. After her disappearance myself and a few of the Wardens here searched the area again for clues of her disappearance. We found relics of Ancient Tevinter and, according to the Circle, of the Elves of Arlathan. But such ruins and rumours are commonplace in Ferelden."

She seemed to hang on my words clearly wishing to hear what else she had not been made aware of. She seemed to find something about me that was compelling. She seemed to examine me. I suppose it should not come as a surprise. She was talking with a complete stranger and wished to engage someone who would end up being a comrade in arms.

I understood her uneasy nature. From what I knew of this "child", it was presumably a mage, if it was even human, with the soul of an Old God. We had no idea what that even entailed. Was it aware of its nature? Could it whisper to those who walked the Fade? Could it still command the Darkspawn. Were more Blights not far away?

Thedas had been, dare I say, spoiled. Garahel and the Grey Wardens had killed so many of the Darkspawn that it had taken centuries for the beasts to rebuild their numbers. So much time had passed that the Wardens had been dismissed as a long irrelevant relic of the past. But as it was the Darkspawn never truly went away. My own travels and correspondence with Bhelen Aeducan were evidence of that. Trade with Ferelden only, in my opinion, succeeded with Orzammar because of the presence of the Wardens.

When she spoke of Alistair I heard unexpected sombre pain in her voice. Her thoughts that the King was "ready" to go to his Calling. I had spoken to him. He confided that he was debating it "because the nightmares were getting more prevalent", but I wondered if the nightmares were more to do with his loss and his own feelings of failure.

" 'Ready' is something I would debate. I wonder if his desire to throw himself at the darkspawn has more to do with his missing Queen. We must find her and the child, a civil war is not something Ferelden needs now. A view that, at the least, Connor Guerrin shares. But unlike the First Warden I will personally farewell Alistair at the gates of Orzammar should his time come."

[Wilhelmina Spector]

The loyalty the man beside me showed his king was indeed touching. I could understand his loyalty-- I had once had the same loyalty to my grandmother, a slavish, foolish, idolatry loyalty that served me no purpose in the end. Yet I understood how the Warden-Commander of Ferelden felt-- that same loyalty I had towards Ferelden. I did not wish to see Ferelden fall into another civil war, for that had been a hardship they did not deserve. It was time to find the Queen, find the Child, find and follow the elusive path that Asha'Bellanar was covering up with every day we wasted talking. Rubbing my hands together, savouring the warmth of the fire in the hearth before me, I listened as Xavier outlined what the Queen had done while she had still been-- was she still alive-- queen. Nodding, my frustration with the First Warden growing, I listened.

From the archives in the Tevinter Chantry, I had seen copies of things that the other countries chose to ignore. I had seen accounts of the Chantry's foundation that gave lie to the accepted doctrine-- things that could not be talked about. I had come to Ferelden prepared to scout the Dragonbone Wastes, Amaranthine proper, and indeed the city of Orzammar, and the great stone tunnels known as the Deep Roads.

"It frustrates me that the First Warden neglected to tell me that they had already scouted the places I was sent to scout. Nonetheless, in my chest, I have copies of maps dating back to the foundation of the Chantry and the burning of Andraste. Hopefully, some of these writings and maps should be of some use, for they document the locations of ancient Tevinter sites-- have you investigated the Brecillian Forest ruins? I hear the Veil is thin there...." I nodded to the young acolyte beside the door, and he went running to my room to get the chest of documents I had been entrusted with. "These are some of the writings I found in Minrathous-- there could be information in them as to what sort of magic was used to preserve the life of the King and Queen..."

I did not want to give Xavier false hope that we would find the King's beloved wife. I had every fear that Ferelden would fall into chaos when Alistair went to his calling-- there was no heir to take the throne, and the closest heir to the throne was a mage called Connor Guerin. It would be a bad day when the Chantry would be forced to acknowledge a Mage as a King. "I fear what will happen once Alistair goes to his calling-- he has no heir and the closest blood relation is a mage." Political talk was not as dangerous here in the company of another mage, and I genuinely worried for the country I had been born in.

[Xavier Ó Callanáin]

Wilhelmina continued to voice her dissatisfaction with our Order's nominal leader. It concerned me as I began to wonder whether or not she would remain focused on the task at hand. The Anders would have to deal with the old man, that was not the concern of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. We learned to deal with little to no support from the Anderfels. It did not surprise anyone here. Granted that meant our closest contacts were the Order in Orlais and more often than not dealing with our neighbours to the West was usually a solitary mission for myself. Taking Guinevere across the Frostbacks was never the wisest of moves.

"Your concerns are finding the truth behind this child and the magicks surrounding it, not The First Warden. Accept that now Ms Spector. We receive little contact or support from the Anderfels. The Ferelden Order survives more in thanks to the Orlesians. Your appointment here was most unexpected and I do not expect to hear word of more support from The First Warden; you were the exception to the rule I suspect. You'll learn to adapt my dear."

I sighed. It appeared that I had bitten the hand that fed me finally. Wilhelmina appeared taken back by my reaction. It simply appeared she was becoming side-tracked. Distractions were not needed when our task was considered so important. I glanced toward the doorway, expecting Guinevere to come charging in looking for an excuse to stick a sharp blade at the neck of our foreign visitor.

"My apologies, Ms Spector. I simply wish to tend to matters at hand, not the politics of the Anderfels. In answer to your question, searching the Brecilian Forest is not the easiest of tasks. Its met only by the foreboding nature of the Korcari Wilds. Aside from, as you mentioned, the thin nature of the Veil, there are countless beasts. Bandits hole up there to flee authorities and disturbing the Dalish settlements there is always a sensitive task."

Which is true, despite having a home to call their own for 20 years, they are still wary of humans, with good reason. It was always a gamble attempting to venture toward the area. I much preferred dealing any wayward travellers wandering through The Wending Wood. It was much closer in proximity to Vigil's Keep and as such I was more familiar with the elves in the area.

She handed me scrolls she had brought with her on her travels from Tevinter, but I doubted they would be of much use. King Alistair told me that Morrigan informed him that Flemeth - the legendary Witch of The Wilds herself - had been the mastermind behind it. Even the Magisters of Tevinter dismissed the tales of the Witch as mere myth.

"I know little of the ritual itself. Despite being trained as a templar, Alistair himself did not understand what magicks were in use at the time. It hardly resembled a ritual apparently. It largely involved, and I quote, 'trying not to lose his lunch' touching the Witch. On the morning of the march toward Denerim, Morrigan barely said anything to Elissa and even less to Alistair. After Urthemiel had been struck down the witch was long gone."

Wilhelmina expressed her concern over the potential for civil war in Ferelden mentioning Connor as a potential heir to the throne. I knew it would never come to that of course. The nobility barely acknowledged the title of one mage. But the concept of a mage claiming a kingdom outside of Tevinter? The chantry would collectively lose its mind over it. As much as I knew the Theirin family and legend was revered in Ferelden, The Guerrin family was no replacement for legend.

"The one thing I can all but guarantee you is that Connor will never be king. He's a mage and not even of the Theirin lineage. His aunt Rowan married into the bloodline. Guinevere would sooner go into exile in Orlais than risk the wrath of a nation against the name Mac Tir again by stepping forward as a candidate. No, if Elissa and the child are not found, I imagine the nobility will look to Fergus Cousland to rule."

It was true. He was of noble blood, a Teyrn in his own right and the elder brother of our absent queen. But looking ahead and thinking on such things was unimportant when Alistair had not yet left the throne.