VI

"So, any last requests before tomorrow's battle?" The handsome young man clad in slim leather armor was leaning against a pillar nearby, leering at a blonde soldier who seemed to want to be anywhere else at that moment. "Life is fleeting, you know. You should take advantage of your opportunities while they last." With that, he reached out to caress the woman's hand with his.

Sighing in frustration, the young woman brushed him off and walked away. He called out after her, "The offer stands, sweetheart! Come find Daveth if you think of anything you might want… or need."

Anlessa's eyes narrowed. "Daveth? You're one of Duncan's recruits?"

Daveth's puckish brown eyes focused on the youngest Cousland and quite obviously summed up her feminine charms from head to toe. "Indeed I am. And, might I add, you are nothing like I'd expected you to be."

Anlessa's eyebrow raised. "Exactly how did you expect me to be, then?"

"Male, for one. You're the only female Warden that I've seen yet in this camp, and I've been doing quite a bit of snooping about while waiting for you and Duncan to show up. Has he told you anything of this Ritual we're supposed to be doing?"

"He hasn't, actually, except to tell me it must happen tonight. You?"

"No one will tell me a thing about it, but I do my fair share of sneaking, you see. I overheard a couple of Wardens last night and it sounds like they're sending us out into the Korcari wilds."

Anlessa thought back briefly to her trek with Duncan through the wilds. "That doesn't seem so bad," she noted.

Daveth's face flushed with eagerness as he shook his head in disagreement. "I was raised on tales of the Wilds. You never go into the Wilds. They have monsters, beasts, and witches in there. I don't know how you feel about it, but I have no interest in being turned into a toad."

"I can't imagine they'd send us into anything too dangerous, Daveth."

"I suppose we'll just have to wait and see then, won't we?" He snorted with derision, "Not like we have much of a choice, anyhow."

Anlessa puzzled at this. "You're forced to be here?"

Daveth held up his hand, motioning for Anlessa to watch and wait. He wandered out into the main path of foot traffic in the camp, and waited for a group of eagerly chatting soldiers to walk by. He seemed to disappear into their group before returning to her, tossing a ripe apple in his right hand.

"You're a cutpurse," she said in disbelief.

"And a pickpocket, I'll have you know. It was either this, love, or Fort Drakon. There's not much of a call for my 'unique skills,' as Duncan called them, in polite society. I was caught red-handed by Duncan himself in the market when I tried to lift his purse – he's quick for an old bugger. The Sergeant that arrested me in Denerim was none too happy to let me go, either. He had been trying to get a hand on me for months. When Duncan gave me the choice of Conscription or prison, the choice was simple… but it also means I'm stuck here until the end." Daveth took a bit of the apple, relishing the crisp texture before tossing Anlessa the rest of the fruit. "Anyhow, I imagine since you're here, it's time to go see Duncan. I'll be waiting with him if you need me, sweetheart."

Anlessa watched the curious rogue head off into the crowd, and found herself reflexively checking herself to see if anything important was missing from her person. Shrugging, she took a bite of the apple, herself, and continued her exploration.

Two large and colorful tents were set at the end of the common area, with guards stationed outside the tent entrances. Wandering in that direction, she recognized the royal seal on a banner outside the larger of the two tents, and what she assumed to be a regional or familial seal on the smaller of the two tents. Stopping outside of the smaller tent, she looked quizzical enough to catch the attention of one of the guards.

A gruff guard stepped forward and examined her casually, saying, "You approach the tent of Teyrn Loghain. State your business."

Anlessa's eyebrow arched. It was known that King Maric's long-time friend and the most decorated General in Ferelden was also one of King Cailan's most trusted advisors, and the primary planner for all major military activities. He also became Cailan's father-in-law the moment that the new King took Anora Mac Tir as his wife. "I would seek and audience with the Teyrn, if you would, please," she responded.

The guard stood a bit straighter. "I suppose you must have a message for the Teyrn, then. Just a moment."

The guard disappeared into the otherwise quiet tent, and re-emerged moments later, holding the tent entryway open for a large man in shining steel armor to emerge. The imposing figure that stood before her was larger in life than could have been communicated in the tales she'd been told as a child, and the Orlesian armor that he'd taken as spoils of war made his severe and joyless countenance all the more dark. In his face, she saw weariness combined with a significant amount of determination.

"Yes? What is it?" Loghain looked at the young Cousland and nodded. "Ah. Duncan's newest Grey Warden, I assume."

Anlessa swallowed, suddenly unsure of why she'd asked for an audience at all. "Yes," she replied, "I suppose I am."

Loghain frowned, nodding again. "Cailan has an unhealthy fascination with your Order. I assume you know his father, King Maric, was the one to bring your order back to Ferelden?"

Again Anlessa nodded, her mouth drying with unexplained anxiety. The difference between the King and his advisor could not be more stark. Being in Loghain's presence was the worst of the winter's blizzards compared to Cailan's glorious summer sun. "Yes," she replied, "I remember reading that."

Loghain looked off into the distance as he continued, "Maric would have understood that it takes more than legends to win a battle – an understanding that his son does not share. This, however, is not an argument I will repeat here." Loghain's dismissive gaze turned once more upon the young warden. "You look familiar. I have seen you somewhere before. At the Landsmeet, perhaps?"

"My father…" Anlessa faltered briefly under his gaze before continuing, "He was Teyrn of Highever."

"Ah, yes. Bryce Cousland." Loghain's gaze softened momentarily as he regarded the girl. "Cailan has told me of his promise to you. I have no doubt that he aims to keep it. Now… is there anything else?"

Anlessa paused for a moment before realizing what her message was to be. "You know then, Teyrn Loghain,that the troops from Amaranthine will not be joining as had been expected?"

Loghain snorted. "Yes, I believe that was made crystal clear by Cailan's report. We have planned tomorrow's battle accordingly. Now, I must return to my task." Turning his back on her, he continued, "Pray that our King is amenable to wisdom, if you're the praying sort."

Softly, Anlessa replied, "You don't seem very fond of him."

Loghain stopped and considered this a moment before turning his head back to reply to her, "He is Maric's son, and King of my beloved Ferelden. He is also a very young man. I try to keep that in mind. I advise you do the same."

With that, Anlessa was alone with two guards that were doing their best to pretend that she wasn't standing there, leaving her to consider what she's just experienced.

Wandering past the mabari compound, Anlessa found herself in an open air infirmary and she watched quietly as sisters of the Chantry fluttered like butterflies from patient to patient. Looking around the courtyard, she saw a ginger-haired soldier standing nearby, observing much as she was.

"Excuse me," she said, I'm trying to find a Grey Warden by the name of Alistair. Do you happen to know who I'm looking for?"

"Ah! You must be the newest recruit I've been hearing about." He held his hand out in greeting. "Ser Jory's my name."

Anlessa took Jory's hand, and returned his eager smile. "Mine's Anlessa, Ser Jory. I'm pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, my Lady Cousland."

The girl startled. "You know me? I'm afraid I'm at a disadvantage, I'm sorry…"

Jory's smile was genuine. "I originally hail from Redcliffe, where I had been a knight under Arl Eamon's rule. I was sent almost a year back to Highever to serve in your father's ranks, and spent most of my working hours near home on patrol into the countryside. I doubt you would remember me, my Lady." He bowed slightly at the waist, his head dropping forward in respect.

Anlessa put her hand on the Knight's arm warmly and smiled into his beaming countenance. "It is good to meet you, Ser Jory. I thank you for your service to Highever, and my family. How long has it been since you'd left Highever?"

"When I received word from home that Duncan was recruiting in Redcliffe a couple of months back, I asked for leave to test my skills in front of the Grey Wardens. I've been trying to convince my wife to join me back home for months, but she was raised in Highever and now that she's with child, she's unwilling to uproot our small farm. I hope both of us are lucky enough to be able to join the Wardens. Isn't it thrilling to be given that chance?"

Anlessa chuckled at the eager ginger-haired knight's enthusiasm. "Have you heard anything about the Joining ritual? I met Daveth, and he suggested we may be sent out into the Wilds."

Jory frowned at this, worry lining his face. "Yes, and I've never heard of such a thing – further tests after being recruited?" Jory shrugged this off with a shake of his head, and his smile returned. "However, since you're here I suppose I ought to be getting back to Duncan. You are looking for Alistair, correct? Last I saw, he was heading to the temple." Jory pointed off to the Southeast. "I think you can find him over there. I'll be seeing you soon!"