Storms howled around Circle Tower. Chilled, Eruestan Surana pulled away from the window where he had been staring at the waves on Lake Calenhad.
"Andraste's grace, it's cold!" he exclaimed to his assistant Neyla.
She looked at him sternly. "Ser, your ears!"
Startled, Eruestan's hands flew to his ear-tips, which were freezing cold – literally. Throwing the accumulated frost into the fireplace, he groaned and said "Why does this ALWAYS happen to me?!"
Neyla smiled sympathetically. "You'd think the First Enchanter would remember his own ears, but then again…"
Eruestan kicked a pile of books. "Here I am, the Hero of Ferelden, Arl of Amaranthine, former Chancellor to the True King, First Enchanter of the Circle of Magi, and I'm the only elf I've ever met whose ears freeze over!"
Neyla paled. "Ser, be more cautious! You never know who could be listening!"
Annoyed, Eruestan sat down at his desk. Yes, Neyla was right: he did have to be careful. It wasn't safe nowadays to mention your loyalties to the old regime. Not with the usurper Anora cutting off the heads of her enemies – which was now anyone who entertained the thought of reinstating the Therin line.
Thinking brought back memories, though. It was impossible to believe that at this time a year ago, he had been living in the palace at Denerim, helping his best friends rule their country. Then there was the coup, and Alistair was missing, Rowena was imprisoned, and a dictator sat upon the throne.
But now, however, was NOT the time to be wallowing in self-pity. Times were too risky to try to test Anora. He himself did not know how he had gotten out alive. Visions of that night flashed through his mind. How he had been attacked by Anora's men in his bedchamber…How he somehow managed to stun them and escape…Running to reach the royal quarters to save his friends…Failing in his efforts…His escape to the Circle Tower. Anora had been furious to discover that not only the King but his right-hand man as well had escaped. She had ordered that the Templars slay him on the spot. Thank the Maker, both the Grand Cleric and First Enchanter Irving had been staunch supporters of the Therin line, and they had staunchly refused. Not wanting to offend both the Magi and the Chantry, Anora had backed down with one final warning – leave the Tower, lose your life.
Then Irving died, and everything changed.
Even though Eruestan hadn't lived at the Tower in five years, on his deathbed Irving named him the next First Enchanter. Granted, Eruestan was the best mage the Tower had instructed in decades, but still – it wasn't exactly expected.
But he wasn't complaining. He now had immunity from Anora.
Oh, and power. Power was good too.
Neyla gave an impatient sigh. "Ser, I know how important your reveries are to you, but really, you need to read these documents!"
"Right, right!"
However, tonight was not going to be the night for business. A knock on the door put an end to all this. A thin red-haired man dressed in mage robes walked in.
"Ser, a stranger wishes to stay the night at the Tower."
Eruestan's forehead furrowed. People normally avoided magi like the plague. "Send him in, Cedric. If he's up to no good, we'll soon find out."
Cedric returned, leading a young man whose face was covered by a cloak. He looks very suspicious, Eruestan frowned. Almost like he's hiding something.
Rising from his desk, he approached the stranger. "Please forgive us our suspicions. We do not often have guests at the Tower, and with the current political situation…"
The stranger bowed. "If I were not for the storm, my lord, I wouldn't have trespassed on your kindness, but I'm afraid the weather is too bad for me or my horse." His voice was strange – too deep to be humanly possible. Confused, Eruestan began to wonder if maybe Anora was checking up on him.
"Please, take off your cloak. It's a little hot in here, I'm afraid – the staff went overboard in their attempts to heat the place."
The man stiffened. "Thank you, Ser, but I'd rather not. I was…er…h-horribly disfigured during the Blight. I wouldn't want to bother you fine folk."
Alarmed, Eruestan performed a silent spell to reveal who this stranger might be. Images began to float into his brain. He saw the world through this man's eyes, seeing the event of the past few weeks. His hands tended a strong horse, fought off a pair of bandits, rescued a family from a burning house, and began to wash themselves…However, before Eruestan could see the face those hands belonged to, the memories vanished. A mental block like an iron wall prevented him from seeing any further.
Yet he was satisfied. Anora wouldn't have the patience to give a man weeks to perform her dirty work, and he was clearly not the type to sell information. Smiling, Eruestan gave his hand to the other man.
"Please, make yourself at home. The Tower would be happy to have you as a guest for the night."
The other man bowed again. "Then you are as kind as they say. Thank you, my lord."
A young apprentice appeared in the doorway and whispered something into Cedric's ear. Importantly, the mage stood up and announced, "Dinner is waiting for you, First Enchanter."
Neyla stood up impatiently. "But Ser! The documents!"
Eruestan's stomach growled. He smiled ruefully at her. With a death glare, she muttered something about doing them herself and sat down in the corner. With the enticing smells of Ferelden cuisine wafting through the air, Eruestan practically flew up the stairs to the Great Hall.
After performing the necessary ceremonies before each meal at the Circle, Eruestan sat back down at the table and turned to his guest. "I must say, stranger, your appearance has caused quite a stir here."
"Has it?"
"Well, considering you're the first outsider we've had in a long while that wasn't an abomination, it's no wonder!"
The stranger looked at the Templar table. "Is that why the knights look so uncomfortable?"
"No," Eruestan said, smiling. "The knights have looked like that for about a week now, after a lesser spirit appeared in their dormitories."
The stranger looked up, stricken. "Was anyone killed?"
"Oh, no! No, this spirit was more interested in throwing the Templar's small clothes about the room."
"From what I know of Templars, that really doesn't answer my question," the stranger joked.
Eruestan laughed. Silence ensued as the two began to stuff their faces. After finally sating his appetite, Eruestan leaned back and sighed. "Nothing like a good meal of Ferelden blandness to ease the mind." His face fell into more serious lines as he stood and raised his glass. The voices chattering throughout the Hall hushed.
"To the future of Ferelden," he thundered. All the other mages murmured the same and drank.
As he sat down, the stranger turned to him curiously. "What did you mean by that?"
Eruestan looked at him gravely. "Surely you agree that Ferelden is facing dark times."
The stranger stared at the table. "Only because that weak Therin bastard couldn't hold his own throne," he said with contempt.
Eruestan's eyes flashed. Caution was thrown to the wayside in the face of a challenge to his friends. His voice resounded like the sound of steel on stone. "I will not tolerate treason in this Tower."
The stranger continued to glare at the table, his voice more bitter than before. "Treason? Ha! The idiot was never fit to be king in the first place!"
For a brief moment, Eruestan was sure that he was going to kill this traitor. How dare he defile the name of his best friend like this?! He went so far as to have the word of death on his tongue. However, he remembered where he was, and he retracted his emotions. Staring coldly at the stranger, he said, "Well, you're wrong. King Alistair represented all that was good in the Therin line. He was loyal, and brave, and true, and had one of the strongest moral compasses I've ever seen. He was – is – a great king."
The stranger's voice sounded funny. "You speak as though you know him."
Eruestan gave a harsh laugh. "Know him? Oh yes, I know him. I fought a damned Blight with him! I advised him for five years afterwards! I stood up for him at his wedding to the Queen! He is my trusted ally and my closest friend. Oh yes, I know him."
"You sound like you think he's still alive," the young man said with odd emotion (was it sadness?).
Eruestan stared at the man, hoping his dislike would drill a hole in his skull. "Alistair is not dead. Nor is he a great coward, as the Usurper would have you believe. I think he's waiting, trying to think of ways to get help without betraying his friends."
"His friends?"
"Why, yes, of course! He needs help, desperately."
"Because he's hopeless, right?" the stranger asked cruelly.
"No, not because he's hopeless!" Honestly, did this man want to have his brains drawn out through his eyeballs? "Because of the Queen!"
"Oh, so he's a coward after all," the man said snidely.
"Not the Usurper, fool! Queen Rowena! She's still being held prisoner in Fort Drakon! King Alistair would NEVER do anything that would put his wife in the least bit of danger! And I hate to say it, but mounting a full-scale rebellion counts as putting Queen Rowena in danger!"
The man looked satisfied. "And who would those friends be? Who would be so foolish as to aide a deposed king?"
Eruestan thought for a moment. "Well, there'd be plenty, actually. The Teryn of Highever is Queen Rowena's brother, so Alistair could go there. He was raised by Arl Eamon of Redcliffe, so he would probably also go there as well. But Anora's been pretty stringent about security there, so I doubt he'd want to stay there for long – wouldn't want to implicate anyone. But from there…well, he'd probably turn to one of the Blightforce."
"The Blightforce?"
Eruestan smiled. "Yes, it was a name given to our team by…" (Painful memories gripped his mind) "by…one of the other members. So, he could go to Orzammar, to see the dwarf Oghren. Not likely, as Oghren mildly disgusted him. He could go to Amaranthine to get the aide of the mage Wynne. More likely, but Wynne is hard to find recently, and he'd feel obligated to protect her. Sten, the Qunari, is too far away, and as for the witch Morrigan…well, even if she hadn't vanished into the Frostbacks, he'd rather lick his own boot than seek out her help. Oh, and of course, there's me." There was one other, of course, but it hurt too much to think of her.
"Yes," the man said in a strangely familiar voice. "There's you."
Eruestan stopped in his tracks. Wonder, fear, and awe filled his mind to bursting. Disbelieving, he peered under the cloak's hood to see the stranger's face for the first time. Bright blue eyes and shiny blond hair stared back.
"Alistair," he breathed, and relief filled his entire soul.
