"Are you sure we should be traveling like this, Your Majesty?" Kallian asked with concern.
Trying to decipher Maric's truly atrocious handwriting, it was worse than his own, though it could have been the fact he was on horseback, it took a moment for Alistair to register his companion's question. Baffled he looked up from the leather bound journal to scan the area for any possible threats, though the escort handpicked from the ranks of the Royal Guard were the best, and was even more confused at seeing the Ferelden country side finally in the full bloom of spring.
For once it seemed like a nice quiet trip.
"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong, why do you ask? And you can call me Alistair in private like this."
"Well, I haven't ridden all over the country like you have, but I have ridden a bit, and I know that horses normally don't go quite this quickly on their own. Your Majesty."
"Ah, that." He didn't quite expect the scowl his nonchalance earned, but after getting glared at by far scarier individuals, Kallian's didn't really bother him all that much. He wondered what kind of bet he'd have to make with the prickly woman to get her to call him by his name. Alistair had a strong feeling she wouldn't be impressed by the amount of cheese he could eat.
"Just 'ah, that'?" she asked incredulously. "I only ask because I thought all the Warden mages were with Marlana?"
Now that was just insulting. The woman had no problem calling his wife by her name, but she was all "Your Majesty" or "Sire" with him. "And they are indeed."
"Sooo..."
Two could play at this game, and Alistair had a feeling he had more experience at annoying people. So he gave her a questioning look, "'Sooo' What?"
If Kallian gritted her teeth any harder she'd be in danger of breaking them. Since she looked like she was about to lose her temper, he relented a bit. Not to mention she looked like she was about to puff up and hiss like an angry cat. While that may have had some entertainment value, he really had no desire to needle her that badly.
After all, she wasn't Morrigan. Or after the angst filled drivel he'd read so far, not like Maric. And that's what had him in a mood to poke at someone. Which really wasn't fair to her.
Sucking in a breath and pinching the bridge of his nose, he said with all sincerity, "I apologize, Kallian. Something else had me in a foul mood and you were the unintended target."
Kallian gaped at him. "There's no need to apologize."
"There is, and the only way I know you'll forgive me is if you call me by my first name."
She stared at him, then sighed, "Fine. Alistair. Now to my original question?"
"Yes, we do have a mage with us that isn't exactly Chantry approved, and yes my guards know about hm because he is one of them. That's why one of the threats the scouts are to keep an eye out for are templars."
Seeing that there was another question forming, he elaborated, "He wasn't officially one of the Guard until a few months ago when Edwards let him know it was safe for him to do so. And he's the reason why I got to Vigil's Keep so quickly. Mal and Donal are fine combat mages, and they seem to be learning some healing from the new mage, but they don't have the particular spells that help speed up our traveling time. At least not yet."
That earned a wide eyed look he was too familiar at receiving from people. He shrugged, "While there's a large enough majority of families quick to turn over their children who have magic, there's a startlingly good sized minority who didn't want their children hauled away from them to live out their lives confined in a cold tower." Since she looked interested, Alistair kept going, "So they put out careful inquiries. If they're lucky, they find someone who can teach them outside of the Circle. If they're not..."
Kallian nodded grimly, "A cousin of mine, Selena..."
So that explained why she'd been willing to act as Lana's representative to the mages that started the Shadow Circle. If she'd had a relative dragged off by templars it probably would've left a lasting impression. Especially given how the elves in the Denerim Alienage were treated.
He remembered too well what it was like to be one of the faceless templars hunting an apostate, even if he'd only done it the once as a novice. He wasn't sure which gave him worse nightmares, that hunt, or the one Harrowing he'd seen. This was yet another advantage to becoming King, he actually had some influence to help make changes. At least in Ferelden.
"Aeryn was one of the lucky ones, extremely lucky actually. His parents found him a teacher who had managed to escape the confines of the Tower, the man taught him the basics Aeryn needed to know. He may not be powerful, but he is very skilled."
"So how did he end up in the guard?"
"That was only since my coronation and his brother who's been a guard for some years learned it was safe to bring him on. Before that, he'd been a well kept secret by certain members for those times a guard needed more than just what an apothecary can provide and there weren't any members of the Circle about." He rubbed the back of his neck, "And sadly, much like the army at Ostagar, the Royal Guard got heavily hit since a good portion were there protecting Cailan. Of course Loghain replaced them, but..."
"But they couldn't be trusted?"
He nodded, "Exactly. So Teagan saw to it that it was understood that the replacements were to be the more open minded sorts. The lot guarding us at the moment are ones that have known Aeryn for some time now."
Kallian nodded thoughtfully as if something was just becoming clear, and slowly said, "I know what your wife told me when she wanted to organize her little Shadow Circle, which I'm thinking probably isn't so little anymore."
He couldn't help but chuckle a bit, "Oh, I'm sure it's grown, if only out of curiosity by various members of the Mage Collective, but it's not near the size of the official Ferelden Circle." Yet, he added silently.
"I think it's just that I can't understand how two people of your background would be so against the Circle." She eyed him warily, "Especially you, Alistair. Given that you're a templar of sorts."
Maker's breath, when would people finally get it that he didn't want to be in the Chantry, much less a templar? Then he saw the glint in her eyes. "Trying to have me on, are you?"
She just grinned impishly at him.
"Anyone who can remember that mages are people would feel the same way I do. I know some are templars thinking they're doing the right thing, but that's before the Chantry gets them with lyrium."
Kallian shuddered. She had no idea, he'd seen the effects of lyrium, and lyrium withdrawal, enough to make him find ways to delay his final vows. In fact, he'd been debating if it were possible to abandon the Chantry by the time Duncan recruited him into the Wardens since they'd been giving him more leeway to go out and about on his own.
But that was a completely moot point now.
"As for Lana...well, you didn't see her face when we first came into the Tower to find out what kind of mess we were stepping into. I'd only known her for a little over a month by that point, but let me tell you, even I could tell she was about ready to rip the place apart with her bare hands. Lana didn't realize how...strict life was for mages. And I'm sure you've figured out how she reacts to what she perceives something she considers an injustice."
That earned him a sad smile, "I have. And I while I appreciate it, and no offense to you or her, but... Well, she can be a bit, hm, forceful."
Alistair threw his head back as he roared with laughter. Oh, that was such an understatement. Duncan would've been proud of that one. His riding companion tried to scowl at him, even as nearby guards grinned. They may not have heard the conversation, but his good humor and laughter could be infectious.
The elven spy sighed, "Well, at least you find it amusing."
Sniffing a little, Alistair grinned, "You do remember who you're talking to, right?"
She huffed at him, his grin broadened, "I learned a great deal about the effectiveness of shouting someone into submission from her."
When Kallian giggled, she looked startled. When she stopped, she looked mortified. He gently commented, "It's quite all right to laugh, it was meant to be funny."
She just shook her head so he continued, "Anyway, that's why we're trying to make certain changes. Of course we have to be careful, we don't need an Exalted March called down on us after all."
"Yeah, we've got enough troubles as it is," Kallian commented sourly.
It pleased him a great deal that Kallian was able to include herself with the rest of Ferelden. Maybe there was some hope of healing the scars, old and new, between the various parts of his kingdom. He nodded, " And that's why Lana is trying her little experiment, so that the time is right, her friends in the Chantry can have a solid example to use to show why things should change."
"There's more than just your friend Leliana?"
He gave her a sly smile not wanting to give away all of his love's secrets. His riding companion gave him an annoyed look, but didn't press the matter when he asked. "Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?"
They rode in companionable silence as Alistair contemplated the situation regarding the unnamed allies in the Chantry. It was saying something that he'd rather think about politics than read his father's drivel.
Irminric had reported his little chat with his former brethren in the templars upon his return to the Keep. The young templars, such as Ser Cadmon, were growing unhappy with the matters in the Chantry. Since Irminric was no longer in the Chantry, they didn't want to say what exactly the problem was, but they were very unhappy that they had to take lyrium due to their addiction. Which the Chantry controlled on the surface.
Given the quietly growing unrest, Alistair had a momentary bout of guilt. He'd been rather profligate in his use of his templar training during the Blight. Those outside of the Chantry wouldn't think anything of it, those within understood all too well what it meant. He shook it off, what was done was done and couldn't be undone.
Truth was, even if he had a chance to do so, he wouldn't change what he did in that respect. While Alistair never fancied himself a rebel, he ruefully admitted he'd been something of one when he was still in the monastery undergoing his training.
Even now he still wondered at the fact he'd been brought along with the others to that demonstration held for Duncan. Probably because they didn't trust what he'd get up to if left to his own devices. Like the whole running away thing he'd contemplated a few times.
He also knew that the Grand Cleric of Ferelden, if not those higher, were very put out with the fact he refused to let the priests and templars influence how he ran the country. He still believed in the Maker and Andraste, more so after speaking with the Guardian of Andraste's final resting place. The Chantry may serve the Maker, he also knew that it was composed of people.
And as he knew all too well, people were all too fallible, even those in the holy orders. Maybe even more so if they believed themselves to be the One True Voice of the Maker in this world.
As the Guardian had pointed out, only Andraste had truly heard the Maker's voice.
Once it would have amused him a great deal, and wonder about the person's mental faculties, if someone had told him he'd spend his time thinking about religion and politics in such a way.
But all that changed, and not just because he was crowned King.
Most would assume that the change came from the events of the Blight. They would be partially right.
No, the greatest source of his changes came from a small, slender woman with bight silver hair and darkly glorious sapphire eyes.
It was a gift from the Maker the first smile he'd charmed out of her that eventful day in Ostagar.
Thinking of the woman he loved, he finally admitted to himself the soul clawing fear that he felt for her. Though he hated it, he understood why she'd sent him away. To protect them both. Just in case more of those terrible nightmares came true.
Such thoughts kept him occupied until it was time to stop to camp for the evening.
By the time the evening meal was cooked and served, Alistair had shaken off his melancholy mood from earlier that day. Probably because he hadn't tried to read anymore of Maric's memoirs or whatever you wanted to call them.
Instead he talked and laughed with his men, still somewhat peeved at not being allowed to help set camp. But that was a minor thing, and something he'd learned to deal with during his Great Procession about his kingdom shortly after his wedding.
Actually, if he was to be honest with himself, he wasn't that peeved at not having to help setup camp. It was rather nice not to have to struggle with recalcitrant tent ropes or go looking for firewood or make sure there was enough water for everyone.
It was as he was telling about the first Great Snowball Fight at the Peak during the winter of the Blight that the first of their unexpected visitors made an appearance.
Gesturing broadly, Alistair said, "Even Shale got caught up in the excitement. Not quite understanding that you use lightly packed snowballs, she grabbed an armful of snow. And buried Lana with it."
There was good bit of laughter. All present had seen the size of the golem so weren't surprised at the fact that Shale could scoop up enough snow to bury someone as tiny as his wife in the snow. The laughter died abruptly as a golden eyed shadow seemingly detached itself from the nearby woods and flowed into the center of the camp.
The light of the fire revealed the shadow to be a massive wolf, one bigger than the biggest mabari, almost the size of a child's pony. With a great deal of dignity it sat down in front of Alistair. He raised a hand to caution his guards. He wasn't sure if it were a Dalish mage, when Lana had passed on the knowledge of the Arcane Warriors to Keeper Lanaya, she'd also passed on what knowledge she'd gotten about the art of shapeshifting. Or if it were something more uncanny.
Either way, since the wolf appeared to be disinclined to be violent, he wasn't going to encourage it to change its mind.
Before he could say anything, an exasperated male voice said, "For the Lady's sake, Dubh, what do you think you're doing?"
Dubh, or so he figured the wolf to be since it answered to the name, just turned its head over its shoulder, then turned to look at him, let its slobbery pink tongue loll out of the corner of its mouth as it held out a massive paw.
Feeling more than a little bemused, Alistair reached out to shake hands as it were. "Well, Ser Dubh, I'm not sure if I can say I'm pleased to meet you, but be welcome in the camp at least."
The wolfish grin widened, but he had to give it credit, Dubh kept the lips down over the teeth so as to remain as non-threatening as possible.
"Dubh," came that annoyed voice.
Smiling a little at the situation, Alistair called out, "It's quite all right to join us if you want, sirrah, your friend doesn't seem to be up to causing any trouble."
"Yet," grumbled the man who stepped out of the woods. For a moment he thought he was seeing a ghost. The man looked much like a young version of Duncan, only clean shaven and a much more prodigious beak of a nose. Only it was the yellow eyes that broke the chill he felt. That and the other wolf at his side that was glaring at Dubh.
Having been at the receiving end of such a glare a few times, he had a feeling Dubh was male and the other wolf was his mate.
The human seemed torn between glaring at Dubh and greeting Alistair, he grumbled some more, "Dammit, Dubh, when I said we were going to go see the King, I didn't mean it quite this way?"
They were looking for him, huh? Interesting. Raising one eyebrow, he laughingly said, "Well, you did find me, how might I help you, Ser … ?"
Flushing a little, the man gave him an elegant, courtly bow that was surprisingly not mocking. "My apologies for my lack of manners, Your Majesty. I am Rafe Wolf. The smug soul in front of you is Dubh, as I'm sure you've already figured out. The gracious lady at my side is his long suffering mate, Amber."
His guards look at the additional newcomers, then the clearly unrepentant Dubh who gave them all a very wolfish grin, golden eyes twinkling. Rafe sighed in exasperation. Kallian snorted her amusement at the whole scene. Trying not to laugh himself, Alistair gestured, "Come join us, Ser Rafe, Lady Amber. I think there might be some stew left if you're hungry, or perhaps you'd like something to drink?"
Dubh straightened up and looked hopeful. Alistair knew that look, the very much missed, late Oogie often had that look if someone mentioned they had leftovers from dinner. Rafe shook his head, "I swear you're a stomach on four legs. What will your pack do if you turn all fat and lazy, hm?"
Alistair swore the wolf just smirked. Amber clearly rolled her eyes as she strolled over to her mate. She too sat down before him, but instead of "shaking hands" inclined her head gracefully to him before turn and nipping her mate on the closest ear. Dubh just gave Alistair a long suffering look.
Shaking his head, Alistair turned his attention to Rafe who was slowly making his way over to his furry friends. "So, do I want to know why you were on your way to see me?"
Rafe gave him a rueful grin, "Probably not, but the Teyrna sent me with some news she felt you should know."
Anora sent this man? One who was from the clan of former werewolves. And he had a feeling he knew just what these wolves were. Sweet Andraste, what was going on? Resisting the urge to rub his forehead, Alistair said, "Well then have a seat and make yourself comfortable. Somehow I have a feeling this will likely take awhile."
"Aye, it will, Sire. But I can sum it up in one word. Or maybe that's five. Trouble. And lots of it."
Of course it was trouble. It always was.