Alexander looked out over the Grey Cliffs, eyeing the distant horizon. Far to the east, the sky was just beginning to turn various shades of pink, red, and purple. A sign that sunrise was quickly approaching. He scanned the horizon southward. In the greying dawn, he could just make out the coast of Brandel's Reach, the island that along with Alamar, marked where the Waking Sea and the Amaranthine Ocean meet. Alexander took a deep breath of the salty sea air. How long would it be, before he would get to see this vista again? Today was the day that Alexander had hoped would never come.
As the sun broke the horizon, turning the sky various shades of red and orange, Alexander turned toward the castle, and slowly headed back. He reminisced about what led him to this day. Alexander, of the House Trevelyan, was the youngest of 5 children. The Trevelyans were the ruling house of Ostwick, a city-state of the Free Marches. But unlike many of the other city-states, Ostwick's ruling house only comprised a part of the governing body. Alongside them, was the congress, a body consisting of the lesser houses, merchants, and elected commoners. And to ensure that the government of Ostwick did not overstep itself, the Chantry had been granted limited judiciary powers. This, in turn, allowed the nobles, merchants, and elected commoners to focus more on the important issues of the city-state. Theoretically, anyway. All it really accomplished was allowing the nobles to argue amongst themselves. Namely, about how such-and-such house had violated an agreement that was 300 years old, or how, so-and-so's son had taken advantage of their daughter. The squabbling was ludicrous to say the least. But when they weren't feuding, the system worked well for Ostwick. And it was up to the Trevelyans to help keep the peace.
Therefore, it became tradition that the eldest Trevelyan child would take the throne. This meant Alexander's eldest brother, Marcus, would be the Crown-Duke upon the death of their father. For the rest of them, that meant a future of either being pledged to the Chantry, or to the Order of the Templars. Alexander's sisters Mariel and Lillienne had already the joined the Chantry as lay sisters. In fact, Lillienne had been looking forward to it. She felt it was her true calling to serve the Maker and spread the Chant of Light. Alexander's second eldest brother, Xavier, had joined the Order of the Templars in Angsburg. And doing the family proud as his mother would often brag about. Alexander had also been pledged to the Order of the Templars. Which didn't thrill him.
Alexander reached the steps of the castle and paused for a moment. He remembered that hadn't always been true. In fact, his father had said that there was a way he could get out of his pledge to the Templars. Alexander thought back to the one morning, when he was the tender age of 13, and had asked his father about his being pledged to the Templars. They were at the breakfast table, waiting for the rest of the family to join them for breakfast.
"Father, must I join the Templars," Alexander had asked. For nearly seven years, he had been tutored in many subjects that ranged from geography, mathematics, and politics, to sword fighting, martial tactics, battle strategy, and magic.
"Well, yes. You were pledged to the Order the day you were born," said his father, "There's really no way out." His father paused a moment and thought, then turned to Alexander and added, "I take that back. If you are married before you are to leave for Templars, your pledge is dissolved. The Templar Order generally frowns upon those kind of familial attachments. Blood relatives, meaning your parents, brothers, sisters, and such are the exception. But you won't get to see us as often as you'd like. Some templars go months, or even years without seeing their family. Others will never see their family again." His father gave him a sad smile. Once Alexander understood, from that moment on, he decided he would try to find someone to marry. The Templars and their pledge be damned. Unfortunately, in the decade since, Alexander had not found anyone suitable. Not that there hadn't been possibilities.
First, he had considered pursuing Lady Katrine, of House Benton. The Bentons were a noble family that had a sitting member on the congress for generations. Marrying into that family, would've given Alexander the chance to represent them on the congress. But, upon meeting Katrine, realized that she was a pig, both literally and figuratively. She was selfish and arrogant.
"Father says everything is mine," she would often brag. Which was quite frankly accurate if what Alexander's parents said was true. Her father and mother had spoiled their only child beyond belief. There was absolutely nothing denied her. Alexander realized that this explained why her family's wealth and power in Ostwick were quickly diminishing, and why they were so keen on her marrying him. It was all her father could do to maintain his status as nobility. And what's worse, Lady Katrine was an utter glutton. Alexander never thought a person could be so fat in his life. He had been unable to figure out if she had two chins, or three. And the way she would snort when she laughed, it made Alexander shudder. He had quickly excused himself from any further pursuit of her. Which incidentally made Alexander the first thing ever, she couldn't have.
Then came Belliana, the daughter of an Antivan merchant, who had come to Ostwick looking for better fortunes for his family. And if the rumors were true, safety from the Antivan Crows. Apparently Belliana's father had angered some Antivan merchant prince when a trade agreement fell through. To spare the life of himself and his family, they had come to the Free Marches. As part of the Ostwicker congress, her father, whose name Alexander could never really remember or pronounce correctly, had gained some influence. Thus, making her an excellent choice for Alexander's wife-to-be. Only, Belliana seemed less interested in Alexander, than Alexander was in her. No matter what he did to please her, she would find fault. And they would constantly bicker over the minutest details or benign subjects. Ultimately, Alexander found out why she had been so intransigent with him. Belliana was secretly seeing a servant of her father's house, who was an elf. In Ostwick, elves were treated with a little more respect than they were elsewhere, and thus it wasn't generally frowned upon for elves and humans to comingle. However, a servant sleeping with a nobleman's daughter was inexcusable, no matter what country in Thedas you lived in. Alexander felt it unnecessary to make that scandal public, but Belliana's father had found out, eventually. Last he heard, she was quietly serving the Chantry in Tantervale. No matter who he considered for courtship, Alexander simply could not bring himself to marry any of them. It was frustrating how selfish, egotistical, and narcissistic women in Ostwick could be.
Alexander walked into his bedroom to finish packing the last of his things. He sat down on the bed and recalled the argument he had with his parents two nights ago.
"Why must I join the Templar Order? Why now?" he had asked of his parents.
"Because, it's Ostwick tradition! Your brother Xavier had to do it too," his mother explained.
"And because it is what's best for Ostwick… politically," his father added.
"Why can't I choose for myself what direction my life takes?" Alexander asked, "All my life, I've been groomed for the Templars. But never have I felt free to be me and to make my own choices."
"That's part of being a noble, my son," his mother responded, "and part of being the ruling house. With your brother Marcus set to be the next Crown-Duke, you, Xavier, and your sisters, have no other place here. Centuries ago, the House Trevelyan agreed that, those not heirs to the throne should serve the Chantry or the Templars. That way, you would still be a productive member of society in the Free Marches." Alexander stared at his mother a moment. The pragmatic attitude she and his father had about his brothers and sisters, sickened him. If his parents knew that he and his other siblings could never rule in Ostwick, why had they been born?
"Well, what… " Alexander began furtively, "what if I don't believe in Andraste. Or the Maker, for that matter. What good am I to a cadre of knights if I don't even believe in their cause!?" Alexander looked at his parents in turn and saw nothing but outrage and pain on their faces. They were disappointed that their youngest and brightest son, the one they thought would become the most influential Templar in the order, was practically spitting in their faces.
"It doesn't matter what you believe," Alexander's mother said curtly, "you are pledged to the order. And our arrangement with them was that you would join them upon your 26th feastday." That had made Alexander pause because his feastday had been three months ago. Seeing the look of confusion on his face, his mother explained, "The only reason you haven't joined them already, is because your aunt, Revered Mother Patricia, has asked you to take part in the Conclave in Ferelden."
"And what, exactly, am I supposed to get out of this?!" Alexander exclaimed, "What do I care about the bloody war between the mages and the Templars." Alexander collapsed in a chair, exhausted, waiting for an answer. He had learned from his Thedan History and Sociopolitical tutor that, nearly three years ago, the Kirkwall Chantry had been destroyed by an apostate mage, killing nearly all the clergy, including their Grand Cleric. The outrage from that incident had resulted in the local Knight-Commander to call for the Right of Annulment, which was an order to purge the entire Circle. Kirkwall's mages claimed to be innocent of the Chantry's destruction and had refused to go quietly. The result was a rebellion that nearly destroyed Kirkwall. Only through the intervention by the Champion of Kirkwall and his companions, was the majority of the city saved from the slaughter. But the damage had been done, and word had spread out quickly of the incident. Soon, other Circles of Magi rose up against the Chantry and the Templars. What had been a rebellion in one of the largest city-states of the Free Marches, became an all-out war between mages and Templars across Thedas. With the Chantry and everyone else caught in the middle.
Six months ago, Divine Justinia V, upon learning that the Seekers of Truth, like the Templars, were abandoning the Chantry, had called for a Conclave. It would be a meeting between the leaders of the rebel mages, the Templars, the Seekers of Truth, and the Chantry. The Divine was hoping they could bring about an end to the conflict and reassert some kind of order in the chaos. Nearly every leader and influential person from each of the factions, was to attend the Conclave. Alexander's aunt Patricia, who was a Revered Mother for the Chantry in Markham, had asked for Alexander to join her there. She hoped that, having Alexander take part in the Conclave, he would get to meet his Templar brothers, and that he would gain a better respect for the Chant of Light. Plus he was her favorite nephew, or so she'd always whisper to him during her visits to the castle.
"You will learn to care, Alexander," his mother replied. She immediately stood up in a huff and walked out at that point; signaling the end to the discussion. Alexander's father glared at him a moment longer, before he too stormed out of the room. Alexander had remained there in the study for what seemed like hours before returning to his room that night. As he brought down the last of his things from his bedroom, Alexander still didn't know what he would learn from this Conclave. He really didn't know else what to do, other than trying to make the best of it. Alexander looked around as his belongings were packed onto the carriage. He saw neither his father, his mother nor his brother Marcus. Even his brother did not approve of Alexander's doubts.
"Ser, we must be off, if we're to make the Conclave in Ferelden on time," said the gentleman-in-waiting. Alexander looked at the servant a moment. He realized, he didn't even know the man's name. Alexander felt ashamed that he hadn't even taken the time to get to know the servants of his family. He politely nodded to the man and stepped into the carriage. A moment later, he began his long journey to Haven.
Two weeks later, Alexander stood on the docks of Kirkwall. The trip from Castle Ostwick had been relatively uneventful, which had given Alexander time to think about the day he'd left. He still felt hurt that both his parents, and his older brother Marcus, had not been there to see him off. Even if they didn't agree with Alexander's personal feelings regarding his obligation to the Templar Order, they could have at least said goodbye. He wanted to feel angry. He wanted to hate them for their lack of empathy. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. They were simply following a tradition that had been instilled into them all their lives. They never felt the need to question that tradition. But over the last few years, Thedas had seen enough strife for Alexander to feel otherwise.
First, there had been the Fifth Blight in Ferelden. At first no one believed that the Darkspawn invasion of the Kocari Wilds, had been anything more than that. And what happened at Ostagar was still sketchy, even to this day. Queen Anora, leader of Ferelden, seemed to persist in avoiding the discussion of Ostagar. What was known, however, was that King Cailin and his forces had been completely decimated. All, except for two Grey Wardens that somehow survived the Horde. Between them, and an apostate mage, they had traveled throughout the kingdom to unite Ferelden in a way not seen in Thedas for centuries. The dread Archdemon, Urthemiel, eventually revealed itself at the Battle of Denerim. As the city burned, the Grey Wardens and their companions, assaulted the Archdemon. Legends recounted that the Grey Warden slaying the Archdemon, often sacrificed themselves in the process. Yet by magicks unknown, for it could only have been accomplished through magic, the Dalish Elf warden killed Urthemiel and survived. The Grey Wardens of Weisshaupt were suspicious, but grateful, that their Ferelden champion lived. They made him the new Warden-Commander of the restored Ferelden order, which was practically unheard of for a Dalish Elf. That was not to be the end of the Darkspawn threat for Ferelden, however. In the Arling of Amaranthine, it was discovered that two tribes of Darkspawn had remained. What set them apart from the average Darkspawn Horde, was the fact that these tribes were intelligent, meaning they could speak and reason. The Warden-Commander, with a team of Wardens, managed to defeat these tribes, and finally drove the Darkspawn back into the Deep Roads. Shortly thereafter, the elven commander had disappeared without a trace and hence became the Lost Warden.
The troubles for Thedas, though, were clearly just beginning. A year later, Kirkwall, the very city-state in which Alexander stood, suffered an attack by some Qunari that had been stranded here during a storm. They claimed they could not leave Kirkwall, because an ancient tome of theirs had been stolen, and they were waiting for it to resurface in Kirkwall. During their "stay," the Qunari observed the residents of Kirkwall and their Arishok saw nothing but depravity, prejudice, and sin in the city. The Qunari felt they could no longer remain idle.
"The Qun demands action," the Arishok had said. The Qunari broke free of their compound, and attacked the city, killing many, including the Viscount Dumar. The Qunari attack was eventually stopped by a group of Ferelden refugees. Their leader, an individual named Hawke, was christened the "Champion of Kirkwall." In the years that followed the Qunari uprising, Kirkwall's troubles only continued to mount. Tensions between the Templars and the Circle of Magi had grown to a breaking point; eventually leading to the destruction of the Chantry and the mage rebellion.
Alexander looked at his surroundings and saw the scars from the rebellion. He understood that the city, after three years, was still trying to rebuild. The section of the city called the Gallows, which had housed the Templars and Circle of Magi in Kirkwall, was still closed off. The damage from the mage/Templar battle there had been extreme. And it was clear that the city wanted, needed, to move on. It was because of all of these events, that Alexander felt it only natural to question his duty to family tradition. If the Maker was real, if Andraste really was His prophet, then what was happening in Thedas during the Dragon Age, meant things had to change. That blindly following what came before was a mistake. It had to be. Alexander sighed heavily and covered his face with his hands. How could his family expect so much of him?
"LELIANA," someone yelled, "we can no longer afford to wait." Alexander looked up to see where the voice was coming from. Two women were approaching the docks from the city's Hightown district. One was dressed in a knee-length tunic that appeared to be made of a lightweight mail; which was adorned with a faded purple hood that draped around her lithe face. Underneath the hood, Alexander spied what was the brightest shade of red hair he had ever seen and intense hazel eyes that could bewitch or terrify. Likely dependent on the woman's mood. Her companion, the one who apparently had been yelling, was slightly shorter, with raven black hair that was tied in a braid and wrapped around the crown of her head. Her expression was clearly one of exasperation. In her hand, she carried a large tome which bore an emblem of the Chantry on the cover. However, in the center of it, where the sun would normally be, there was a half-lidded eye instead. Alexander was vaguely familiar with this modified Chantry symbol, but at that moment could not place what it signified.
"Cassandra, I know this," Leliana, said, "but are you sure we should being going without him? Justinia made it clear how important he is." Cassandra stopped and looked Leliana square in the eyes.
"We don't have a choice any longer. The Divine wanted us to find either of them before the Conclave. We've failed in that regard. While that dwarf may have told us everything he knows, he cannot help us. We will have to go to the Conclave without either of them," said Cassandra. She turned around, and continued down the dock, catching Alexander's glance.
"What is it? Why are you staring like that," asked Cassandra hotly.
"My apologies," said Alexander, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. You're going to the Conclave in Haven?" Cassandra looked at her companion, somewhat embarrassed that her outburst had apparently caught undue attention. Leliana returned Cassandra's gaze, gently shrugging.
"Yes. Yes we are," responded Cassandra, her exasperation growing.
"Ah. I am as well," said Alexander, oblivious to the fact that this woman clearly didn't want to speak to him, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alexander Trevelyan." Alexander extended his hand. Cassandra looked at his hand a moment, then turned to Leliana and walked past Alexander.
"It doesn't matter who you are. Now, please, leave us to our business," she said. Leliana looked at Cassandra in mild shock as she stepped onto the ship. She turned to Alexander.
"I apologize for my friend's rudeness," she said, "we have been on a long journey, and it has not gone as well as we had hoped. You said you were going to the Conclave as well, correct?"
"I am yes," responded Alexander, looking at Leliana.
"Well then, I hope your trip to Jader will be a pleasant one. Perhaps we will see one another at the Conclave," Leliana said.
"Thank you. I hope your trip onboard will be pleasant as well. But, if what my aunt tells me of the Conclave is true, it will be unlikely that we will see each other there," Alexander said, as he went to board the ship. Leliana walked alongside Alexander and asked, "And who is your aunt, if I may ask?"
"My aunt is Revered Mother Patricia of the Markham Chantry, here in the Free Marches," replied Alexander as he stepped onto the ship. He looked around for help, because he had no idea where accommodations were onboard.
"Oh! I know of Mother Patricia. She's a very sweet lady," said Leliana with a hint of amusement in her voice, "she was very hospitable when Cassandra and I stopped in Markham on our way to Kirkwall a few months ago." Alexander looked at Leliana, genuinely surprised that this woman knew his aunt. Strange, Alexander thought, his aunt had failed to mention he might run into members of the Chantry on his way to the Conclave.
"Ah, so you are with the Chantry then?" posed Alexander.
"I was. But the Maker has called me to do work for the Chantry outside of the cloth." Alexander looked at Leliana, mildly confused. He wasn't sure what she meant. "I beg your pardon," Alexander quipped.
"I'm sorry," Leliana said, softly giggling, "What I meant was, it is the Maker's will for me to perform duties outside of the sisterhood. While I work for The Divine, Herself, I am officially not a sister of the Chantry. Not anymore." Alexander nodded his understanding.
"I see," he said. Leliana looked up at Alexander and smiled. She walked towards Cassandra, who was deep in conversation with the captain. "Well, it was good to meet you… what did you say your name was?" she asked.
"Alexander. Alexander Trevelyan," he replied, bowing his head slightly.
"Good to meet you, Alexander Trevelyan," Leliana said, bowing her head in return, then headed off to her friend's side. Alexander watched her go for another moment and then shook his head. What a strange pair of friends those two are, he thought. Alexander walked around the deck hoping to find where the accommodations were.
"May I help you Serah?" asked an approaching elf. Alexander nodded, "I'm trying to find my accommodations."
"Right this way Serah, we'll get you settled, in no time," said the elf. He led Alexander to the aft deck and to the access hatch for below decks. Just before walking down the stairs, Alexander took one last look at Cassandra and Leliana, both of whom were leaning on the railing, engrossed in another conversation. Alexander smiled, shook his head again, and followed the elf to his cabin.
Alexander stepped out onto the deck of the ship and took a deep breath of the fresh sea air. He felt the cool wind against his bare, muscular torso. The gentleman-in-waiting told Alexander that they were nearly four hours from Jader. Alexander thanked the man and went above to stretch and limber himself up for his morning exercises. It had become something of a habit for him. As he began, he thought back to the times he and Xavier had trained together. They had developed a mild rivalry between them, to see who could run the fastest and the farthest; who could swim the most laps in Dwerin Lake, and who could lift the most stones. Occasionally, their brother Marcus would join them. However, as heir to the throne, he was not required or expected to be as physically fit as Alexander and Xavier, both of whom were pledged to the Templars. Xavier, with a head start on his training, would always beat Alexander. It was now four years since Xavier left to join the Templars in Ansburg, and more than likely hadn't been able to keep up with the physical training they started at home. Alexander was sure he could outpace Xavier by now.
The young noble, nearly done with his morning exercise, heard someone's footsteps on the deck. He looked up briefly to find it was the raven-haired woman from Kirkwall. She was looking around the deck, at the ship's surroundings, before noticing Alexander. Slowly she walked over to him as he got up off the deck.
"Good morning," she said.
"Good morning," responded Alexander, "I hope your trip so far has been enjoyable," he asked politely.
"Yes, it has been somewhat relaxing," said the woman. She looked nowhere near relaxed, thought Alexander. Or was her posture always so rigid? Alexander didn't want to ask either way.
"Listen," the woman started, "I need to apologize for my rudeness the other day in Kirkwall. I know you were only being polite. I had no right to snap at you like that. Please forgive my transgression." Alexander smiled and waved away her apology.
"Consider it forgotten," he replied. They stood there in awkward silence for a moment before the woman, who seemed to be softly blushing, backed away.
"Well, I'll let you get back to your exercising," she said. Alexander suddenly realized why she was blushing. He was, after all, wearing nothing but his britches. His broad, well-defined torso was glistening from the sheen of sweat and sea spray, and clearly creating quite the sight. He blushed himself from embarrassment.
"Oh, I was finished anyway. I do need to go and freshen up," he said, "We should arrive in Jader in a few hours." The woman nodded and continued to head back to the cabins.
"I need to freshen up as well. Good day to you," she said as she disappeared below decks. Alexander stayed on the deck a few moments longer, letting the wind cool him off. He then headed below decks. Entering his cabin, Alexander freshened up and dressed. Strewn around his cabin were the books and papers that his Aunt Patricia had sent him. She said that Alexander would need to study all of the available information, to prepare for the Conclave. He had studied what she'd sent, although not with the level of enthusiasm his aunt or parents would have expected of him. Alexander accepted that it was, at the very least, important he understand what was planned for the Conclave. And, from what he had read, things sounded far worse and more complicated than the rest of the world knew.
Hours later, Alexander stepped off the ship, thankful for once again having solid ground under his feet. While he wasn't susceptible to sea sickness, trying to read with the ship heaving to and fro had not been pleasant, or easy. He looked around the docks as the other passengers and their luggage were being offloaded. This was his first time in Jader and Orlais. There was still bad blood between the Free Marches and the Orlesian Empire. Centuries ago, Orlais had conquered much of Southern Thedas, including the Free Marches. But, like the Tevinter Imperium before them, Orlais was eventually pushed back to its own lands. To this day, Orlesians still could not understand the loose confederation made up of the city-states in the Free Marches. They couldn't fathom how Marchers could govern themselves in such a democratic model. But what did the Free Marches care? They were their own nation and that was good enough for them.
Alexander walked around taking in of Jader what he could as his coach to Haven was being loaded. He turned to look at an interesting statue of Empress Celene I, when suddenly, he was jarred from behind so hard he nearly fell over. He wheeled around to see who collided with him. A hooded figure sprinted away frantically. Alexander caught a glimpse of the robes underneath the hood. They looked familiar, but Alexander couldn't place them. A pair of Chevaliers were giving chase, presumably after the hooded individual. Alexander ran after the offender. He wasn't sure what he was planning on accomplishing, but he could not allow someone who was clearly wanted by local authorities, to escape their crime.
Alexander caught sight of the hooded figure a few yards away from him, turning back repeatedly to see if anyone followed. When Alexander's intentions of capture registered, the figure immediately turned down an alleyway, hoping to lose the young noble. Alexander would not be deterred. He sprinted down the alleyway after him. He could see the figure up ahead in the dark and hear the man's footfalls. Alexander quickened his pace, trying to close in on the man. Behind him, he could hear the Chevaliers nearing his position. Suddenly, the figure turned around a corner. Alexander followed and skidded to a halt – the short alley was completely empty. He looked around in the other direction and saw nothing. The hooded man had simply vanished. Alexander frantically scanned the area trying to catch even a glimpse of the individual. The Chevaliers caught up to Alexander a moment later. They looked around the alleyway as well, both panting heavily.
"Where did he go Monsieur," one of the Chevaliers asked Alexander, clearly out of breath.
"I do not know Ser," he replied, "he was right here in front me one moment, then gone the next."
"Bloody hell," said the other Chevalier.
"What exactly did that man do," Alexander inquired.
"He broke into a merchant's shop, and apparently stole something of significant value," said the first Chevalier.
"Do you know what was stolen," Alexander prodded. Both Chevaliers shook their head. Frustrated, Alexander nodded to both men. "I hope you are able to apprehend him. I'm sorry I wasn't able to catch him for you," he said.
"Thank you for trying Monsieur," said the second Chevalier. They both bowed to Alexander, and headed back to the main thoroughfare in heated conversation. Alexander took one last desperate look around the alleyway, and headed back to the docks.
"Lord Trevelyan!" yelled the coachman, as Alexander approached, "we were worried Serah. Where did you go?"
"I apologize," Alexander said, "I was taking in the sights of the city, when this individual ran into me. When I saw two Chevaliers chasing the individual down, I tried to help. Unfortunately, I lost the stranger." Alexander felt disappointed in himself. If only he could've tried a little harder. Xavier might have been able to catch the thief.
"Oh Ser, that's rather brave of you," said the coachman, "but please, next time, don't run off like that. If anything were to happen to you, your family would have my hide." Alexander flinched at the mention of his family. At that moment, he wondered what exactly his family would do. He shook his head and then sat down in the coach. It would be another 4 days until they arrived in Haven. His journey would soon be at an end. He would have about a day or two to rest before the official start of the Conclave.
Alexander hurried up the road. After all his careful preparations, after all his studying, and reading; after making sure he'd gone to bed early enough the night before… he still woke up late, and on the first day of the Conclave too. Aunt Patricia had always been a hardliner for punctuality. She would surely skin him alive for being late. As soon as he could see the Temple in the distance, Alexander pushed himself harder. Whoever thought it would be smart to build the bloody village so far down the mountain from the Temple, needed to have their head examined, thought Alexander annoyed.
He finally approached the main gate of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He took a moment to catch his breath. The temple was new, having been built a few years ago. When the Hero of Ferelden had come to these parts, he had been seeking the famed "Sacred Ashes of Andraste". An arl in Ferelden was ill and only a pinch of the ashes, could save the man's life. After the ashes were discovered, they had disappeared. Despite that, the Chantry still considered the mountain top ruins sacred. And so, they had constructed the temple. It was a magnificent structure. The Temple of Sacred Ashes stood several stories tall and covered nearly the entire area of the old ruins, which still existed beneath the temple. In fact, Chantry scholars, with a cadre of dwarves, were still excavating the ruins, finding all kinds of artifacts that were said to be of some historical significance.
Alexander walked into the Temple and saw the bustle of activity. The various factions had arrived over the course of the last few days. Most of the visiting dignitaries were camped on the grounds of the Temple itself. Lesser functionaries, like himself, were given quarters in Haven. The ambassadors of the factions, on the other hand, were given spaces in the Temple itself. There had to be more than a hundred people all running around, trying to finish last minute tasks, before the Divine called the Conclave to order.
"There you are!" someone yelled. Alexander recognized the sharp, yet lilting, voice. It was that of his aunt, Revered Mother Patricia. She was only a year and a half younger than his father and slightly shorter than Alexander. Many women her age, Alexander observed, were generally quite grey by now. Aunt Patricia, however, was either too stubborn to age or just suffered from good breeding. Her hair was the same strawberry blonde as Alexander's own hair. And because the Revered Mother's hair had been allowed to grow untouched, for so long, she needed to braid it into buns that were tucked neatly into her cassock. Despite the anger in her voice, her eyes practically shone with love and drollery. She was happier to see her loving nephew than angry that he was late.
"Where were you," she scolded mockingly.
"I apologize Aunt Patricia, I, uh, overslept," Alexander replied, blushing.
"I see. Well, perhaps you should have gone to bed earlier," she said, giving him a teasing, but firm look.
"I did auntie!" Alexander responded, calling her by his pet name.
"Mmhmm," she responded, "Well, now you are here, and I need your assistance."
"Anything auntie," Alexander said.
"There are some papers I left in my office. I'll need them, for the opening of the Conclave. Can you be a dear and grab them for me," she asked.
"Certainly Aunt Patricia," responded Alexander. "Where is your office?" he asked.
"It's not far. All you do is go down this hall, turn left, walk down that hall, and then turn right. It is the second door on the left. The papers are on my desk, on top of a stack of books," she instructed. Alexander nodded and headed down where she indicated.
"And Alexander!" yelled the Revered Mother.
"Yes auntie," asked Alexander, sticking his head around the corner.
"DON'T BE LATE!" she teased. Alexander chuckled and headed down the hallway. He entered Patricia's office and went over to the desk. Alexander reached for the papers when he heard someone yell. He paused a moment to make sure he had not imagined it. For a split second it seemed he had, then he heard scuffling. Alexander went to the door and leaned out into the hallway. Further down the hall, there were a set of stairs that led to a lower level, which is where the sounds appeared to be coming from. He quietly crept down the stairs to listen and see if he could make out what was happening.
"Now is the hour of our victory," said a deep masculine voice. Victory, wondered Alexander, whose victory? Who are they fighting? Alexander reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around the dank hall. There, off to his left, were a huge set of doors. From beneath them, reflecting on the floor, Alexander could see torchlight. The voice seemed to have emanated from that room.
"Bring forth the sacrifice," said the masculine voice. Sacrifice, thought Alexander mortified. Were they about to sacrifice someone in the temple? Who would do such a thing? Alexander quickened his pace towards the room. Whatever was going on in there, he had to stop it. Now.
"Why are you doing this," asked an elderly female voice, "You of all people?" She sounded wise and kind, but was clearly distressed. She had to be in some kind of trouble. Alexander made his way slowly toward the doors.
"Keep the sacrifice still," said the masculine voice. As he approached the doors, Alexander suddenly heard a crackling and buzzing like the sound of some magical artifact being activated, and a greenish light began to glow from under the doors, overpowering the torchlight.
"SOMEONE HELP ME!" said the female, who was apparently the sacrifice. Whoever she was, she was clearly terrified of the beings accosting her. Alexander burst through the doors and was abhorred by what he saw before him. There, suspended in midair by magical energies, was The Divine herself, Justinia V. Around her in a circle, were several people dressed in armor and robes with a gryphon emblazoned on them. He recognized them as Grey Wardens. Alexander wondered what they were doing to her. In front of The Divine, stood an individual that looked like he was part human and part Darkspawn. No, Alexander corrected himself, this creature was a Darkspawn that just happened to have human skin stretched down its torso and across its face as if in attempt to give it a more humanlike appearance. The creature was roughly three meters in height, and extremely gaunt in appearance. Its arms were long, remarkably thin, and ended in cracked, blackened claws. Its head was large, asymmetrical, and amorphous. The skin of its face, if that's what one could call it, was stretched like a canvas over a wooden frame, with red crystals pinning it in place. Its eyes were distressingly hollow, devoid of any compassion.
In one of its hands, the creature held an orb, which was the source of the greenish light. From the orb, a powerful energy beam was shooting from one side of the orb, and surrounding Divine Justinia's body. The orb seemed to be drawing energy out from the Divine herself.
"What's going on here," Alexander demanded of the Darkspawn creature.
"Run while you can! Warn them!" Justinia begged of Alexander.
"We have an intruder! Kill him, now!" ordered the Darkspawn. With the Darkspawn distracted by Alexander's intrusion, Justinia freed one of her arms and slapped the orb out of the creature's hands. It rolled along the floor in Alexander's direction. He dove for it, and picked it up in his left hand. Almost immediately, he felt a searing sensation as he held the orb, as if his hand was dipped in volcanic lava. The Darkspawn creature watched in horror a moment, before it ran towards Alexander, to try and grab the orb away from him. But no sooner did he reach Alexander when, suddenly, the orb emitted an energy pulse that sent the creature flying backwards. A split second later a bright blinding light erupted in front of Alexander's eyes. Then there was nothing.