Prologue

9:39 Dragon

City of Amaranthine

Night was falling on the city of Amaranthine.

Arl Mirevas Tabris was reclining in a chair in his personal residence, poring over news reports.

"Void take them!" he swore. The mages and templars were moving closer and closer to outright warfare. The destruction of the Kirkwall chantry and failed annulment of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi had been enough to start the ideas of rebellion, but there had been little fighting since then. It had mostly been limited to the templars squeezing harder and the mages becoming more and more upset. Now, though... now, the mages were contemplating outright secession, and there were whispers that the templars were making a contingency plan to revoke the Nevarran Accord to hunt mages if "needed".

Damned fanatics are bad enough with the Chantry keeping them in line, he thought worriedly. He sighed deeply, put down the report, and began walking to his bedroom. He lay down on his bed and tried to think a bit more about the mage-templar conflict. Soon, however, he was drifting off. Even after eight on-and-off years of luxury, he was still unused to it. Before he fell asleep completely, he was roused back to consciousness by a loud creaking sound.

"Heh, knew that would pay off," he muttered, referring to the old door he had specifically requested. He quietly arose, listening intently. When he heard the clinking of armor, he drew his blades Vigilance and Starfang from his weapon rack. He briefly glanced at his armor rack, but decided he didn't have time. Holding his swords at the ready, he crept down the hall, only to find... a closed door.

Okay, so there are downsides to two weapon fighting, he thought. Eh, screw subtlety. He kicked open the door.

Standing in his entranceway was a small group of heavily armored warriors. They were were wearing black- and copper-colored armor emblazoned with what looked like the image of an eye superimposed over the sun. The pair in the back were wearing helmets; in the front stood a woman with short dark hair, amber eyes, and a large scar across her cheek. She barely flinched as he sprinted into the room and assumed a defensive stance.

A tone of cold fury in his voice, he asked, "Who are you, to invade the home of the Hero of Ferelden? Templars, come to kill me in my sleep? You've got the skirts for it, even if your armor's weird."

"If we were templars," the woman replied disdainfully, "that would be a good guess." Mirevas couldn't quite place her accent. "You have been vocal in your support of the mages."

"That I have. Who are you, then?"

"I am Cassandra Pentaghast of the Seekers of Truth."

"Pentaghast? Nevarran, then," Mirevas muttered, half to himself.

Cassandra stared at him with an expression somewhere between confusion and annoyance.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I couldn't place the accent."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

"I am trying to prevent a war, and you are wasting time on trivialities!" she said angrily.

That was enough to give him pause.

"You're... trying to stop the war from happening?" He considered this for a moment. Though he still looked wary, he lowered his blades to his sides.

"No. This doesn't make sense. The Seekers are Chantry. Not templars, but still Chantry. Why would the Chantry want my help?"

"You are one of the most respected and feared warriors in Thedas. The only other person in all of Ferelden who might have more respect from the people than you is the king. You are one of the few people in the entirety of Thedas who have a chance of resolving this peacefully," she explained.

"Well, I'm certainly not going to argue with that," he smirked, "but that's not quite what I meant." His eyes hardened. "What I meant was, 'Why do you think I would possibly consider helping you?'"

Taken aback, Cassandra replied, "Surely you cannot approve of the world falling into chaos!"

"...maybe not," he admitted, after considering it. "But I approve even less of helping the Chantry in their efforts to keep oppressing people."

Cassandra narrowed her eyes and scowled. "The Chantry-"

"No!" he interrupted. "Don't even try to tell me 'the Chantry doesn't oppress people!' or 'it isn't the Chantry's fault!' because I've heard it all a thousand times, and it's always bullshit. Let me remind you of a few things: My people's second homeland was destroyed when the Orlesian Empire decided it wanted more land, and the Chantry completely endorsed the war. Then the Chantry decided that a knife-ear couldn't possibly have been an ally and friend of Andraste, and they vilified one of the greatest heroes of the real Exalted March. The elves have lived in poverty, slavery, or isolation for the past seven ages. All because of the Chantry. I'll ask again: Why should I help you?"

"We were speaking of mages, not elves," Cassandra retorted.

A humorless grin crossed his face. "You want to talk about mages?" he asked. "Fine. 9:30. Kinloch Hold was nearly annulled due to the incompetence of your templars. An unknown time, ending in 9:34. A templar in Kirkwall was illegally making mage girls Tranquil so he could use them as sex slaves. He wouldn't have faced any kind of justice from the Chantry. 9:37. The Gallows were nearly annulled because of the actions of a mage not even part of the Circle. Templars are chosen for fanaticism over morality. The Chantry addicts them to lyrium so even if they have misgivings, the won't risk losing the dust. Mages are treated like subhuman... such as it is... scum by the Chantry because of the gifts the Maker gave them.

"So, in short: No, I won't help you, you oppressive traitorous bastards. Andraste guide you, and don't let the door hit you on the way out."

"No! You must-"

In one swift movement, Mirevas crossed the gap between him and Cassandra and held Vigilance just away from Cassandra's throat.

"There is nothing that I must do," he hissed. "Get out of my house while you still draw breath."

With only a slight waver audible in her voice, Cassandra pleaded, "Please, if you will not help us, at least let us understand what is happening."

"Wow. Maintaining calm, even when there's a blade to your throat. You've got balls... so to speak. I can respect that. What do you want to know?"

Unable to suppress a sigh of relief, Cassandra replied, "Anything that you can tell us that might help us bring peace. You were in contact with the apostate Anders up until his act of terrorism, were you not?"

"Yes... I was. I count him among my closest friends."

"You... count him? Surely you mean you counted?"

"I don't often misspeak, Seeker. Now, I'll tell you what you want to know. But it's late, so come back in the morning."

He moved Vigilance away from Cassandra's throat, loosened his stance, and began walking away. As he walked, he heard Cassandra's voice, slightly muffled, as though she was resting her head in her hand.

"Maker's breath... What have I gotten myself into?"

"Perhaps we should have gone to Kirkwall first," one of her companions chimed in.

"Out!" Mirevas yelled down the hall. He stowed Vigilance and Starfang, then collapsed into bed.

This time, there were no interruptions.

AN: A few timeline points, in case there's confusion:

9:37: Dragon Age II (Act 3)

9:40: The revocation of the Nevarran Accord, Dragon Age II (framing device)

There's more ambiguity as to when the Circles rebelled, but for this story, I'm saying it happened either near the end of 9:39 or later.