News From Varric

It took Loghain a while to regain his speech after reading the short letter Sancia had just given him. He couldn't even stand right away. "Are you certain this … is real?"

", mio capo, it came directly from Varric through my network here in Ferelden. I know Varric was there because he thought the Conclave might make a good book. I triple verified it before I brought it here and all of our private codes are there. Even the candle scorch on the bottom right corner for this week." She looked at him expectantly. "It is a miracle, no?"

Loghain finally got up and paced for a moment before he answered, "I don't believe in miracles." He looked at his door. "Maric will want to know."

He and Maric had just returned to Denerim because of questions surrounding the hasty Conclave in the Frostbacks at Haven ... located on Ferelden soil. The Divine didn't even notify the Crown or the Denerim Chantry about it until it was damn near underway already. It made everyone nervous. Anora wrote to Loghain to come to Denerim … just in case. Maric had been visiting Gwaren and, of course, was only beginning to relax when the letter came.

Loghain hadn't been in Denerim in over a year. General Marzen had taken Kezel's place as commander of the Ferelden army after Ostagar and was doing a fine job.

So, to avoid stepping on Anora's toes too much, Loghain had been taking some time to travel his teyrnir and strengthen relationships with the Dalish. New trade with the Dalish clans opened some of the Gwaren citizens' minds about the elves. For example, some of the ancient Dalish growth techniques, along with judicious conservation of growing trees, aided the lumber trade.

Keeper magic was still irrationally feared, however … and the blasted mage-templar war wasn't helping. But, folks did still remember that a Dalish mage helped to bring the Archdemon down to ground level. Loghain made certain they did not forget that fact at every opportunity he got. The town had erected statues of Alistair and all three of the warden mages who brought down the Archdemon.

He wondered how this new Alistair would find his likeness.

Maric and Loghain had gotten into an easy friendship finally. It took damn near ten years for Maric to truly forgive Loghain for letting both of his sons die at Ostagar. Maric knew the truth, but he had to blame someone … or else fall into a despair he'd never be able to climb out of again.

Loghain turned back to Sancia. "Start preparations to head to Haven. Maric's Shield, logistics … and see if the wardens want to go along, especially if Bethany is available."

"Right away!" Sancia smiled, bowed and left the room … left Loghain with a quandary about just how he was going to break it to Maric that Alistair was back from the dead.

Seems to run in the damn family, Loghain thought to himself … and he could feel the scowl on his face deepen. So, he marched to Maric's suite and knocked on the frame of the open door.

"Who's there at this …? Oh, Loghain, come in." Maric motioned toward the sofas in front of the fireplace. "So, decided to try some of the new brandy Teagan dropped off? I daresay, Redcliffe is going to give Tevinter a run for their money in brandies and wines soon."

Loghain held up the letter. "Sit and read this. I'll get the brandy."

Maric frowned, but sat and took the letter …

Loghain,

You're not going to believe this, but I swear on my next published book, it's true. Alistair walked out of one of those green portals after the explosion at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. (I assume you've heard about that.) BUT … I don't think it's our Alistair. Seems he's an Alistair from another Ferelden. I don't have too many details about that yet. Pretty drastic magic caused the explosion. I certainly don't know anything about that shit.

Actually, they call those green portals "rifts" here in Haven. Before it closed up, the soldiers nearby saw a woman in the rift Alistair fell out of. The rumors have already started that he's the "Herald of Andraste". He has this green glowy thing in his left hand that responds to rifts … closes them.

He closed the giant rift at the center of the explosion and stabilized the Breach … and now, he's unconscious. I'll send you updates after he wakes up. The wardens were scouting in the area for some reason and Jowan was with them. Neria's taught him a good deal of healing magic. Alistair's pretty important to keep alive if half of the reports I've seen about demon rifts all over are true.

You and Maric need to get here as soon as you can. These Haven Seekers and Templars have some sort of planning going on that makes me twitchy. Oh, and Seeker Leliana is here.

See you both soon,

Varric

Maric jumped up. "We have to leave now!"

Loghain handed him a large brandy. "Sit. Sancia's working on it. We'll leave in the morning."

"Maker, Loghain … can it be true? Another Alistair?" Maric sat and downed the entire snifter. "He is a hero … could he be the Herald of Andraste?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Maric. We'll know more when we get there." Loghain came close to downing his snifter as well.

"It's all the way across Ferelden." He turned toward Loghain. "We're going to travel as quickly as we can. Warn Sancia to tell the others. No wagons." He stood. "Now, I'm going to force myself to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same."

Loghain stood also and cocked an eyebrow. "That's actually a good plan. Seems I'm rubbing off on you. I need to let Anora know and then I'll go to bed myself."

Maric grabbed Loghain's upper arm. "Loghain …"

"Get some sleep, Maric." Loghain turned and headed out the door, but turned back at the last minute. "For now, let's just assume the dwarf has a death wish and his note was a poor joke."

As Loghain stepped out, he heard Maric mumble, "I'll kill him myself if he's lying."

The long hallway to the royal family chamber was lined with tapestries of great battles. It had always seemed that Gareth somehow inherited his father's infatuation with glorious battles. However, one day, Loghain overheard Maric telling Gareth about the battle of the River Dane … then, he knew where both boys got their interests. Until that moment, Loghain never realized that Maric loved those stories so much.

It was Gareth who opened the door when Loghain knocked. "Gan!" Gareth was a sprouting, well-spoken young man. Anora was sitting on a chaise, reading something or other … probably a new tome from one of the professors at the university she sponsored in Denerim. It was uncanny how much Gareth already resembled Cailan. "I'm so very happy to see you before I went to bed."

It took a few years, but Loghain eventually learned to accept the young king's hugs without stiffening up. "I'm afraid that I'm here to tell you all that Maric and I will be leaving with the dawn." Loghain handed the note to Anora. Gareth read it over her shoulder.

The family quarters of the palace were large but not opulent. Anora insisted that the rooms were to be a comfortable refuge for both of them. Tidiness was optional … as demonstrated by the almost teetering stack of books on a table near the window. Several maps lay open on a variety of tables and on the floor. Loghain cringed internally to see such priceless maps … some of them from his own collection … scattered haphazardly all over the room.

A couple of years ago, Gareth imprinted his very own mabari. Named him Justice. A good name for a good Ferelden mabari. Loghain had dragged over a warden mage who could shapeshift into a mabari to make certain the dog wasn't another mage spy. Fortunately, the mabari wasn't, because Gareth was instantly smitten. It took a while, but even Anora eventually capitulated that Justice would be going wherever Gareth went.

The tan mabari was lounging by the door to Gareth's suite, tongue lolling to the side. He was currently looking at Loghain after looking around at the nearby maps … as if he could read Loghain's mind. Loghain had no doubt that the mabari could do that.

"Uncle Alistair is alive?!" Gareth said and broke Loghain's reverie. The young king-to-be had heard all the tales of the Hero of Ferelden.

"This can't possibly be accurate, Father!" Anora looked horrified.

"Sancia checked it out. The note's genuine. I don't think that dwarf storyteller would risk execution by lying about such a thing." Loghain sighed. "But, I'm not certain of that. That's why we're going to leave in the morning for Haven to check it out ourselves." Loghain frowned as a thought came to him. "Even though Varric says he's not our Alistair, I think a warning to Warden Arlaine may be in order."

"I was just thinking that … although I suspect Varric sent her a message already." She snapped shut the book she had been reading. "I'll get word to the wardens. Perhaps one of their mages can fly a note to her. I imagine the news will be quite the shock."

"She'll deal with it like the strong woman she is. I have no doubt." Loghain stood. "Now, I need to get to bed. Maric's going to drive us to our limit to get to Haven."

Anora came over and hugged her father. "Maker go with you. If he is anything like our Alistair, bring him back safely."

"I would like to go along." To the Gareth's credit, he didn't cringe when two surprised sets of eyes turned his way.

Before either of them could just outright deny the lad, Loghain asked, "Why?" He could feel Anora's eyes boring into the back of his skull. He and his daughter had had many discussions about Maric's renowned wanderlust, hoping it was not an inherited thing. The statement Gareth just made was most likely sincere and innocent ... or it could be Maric's tendencies asserting themselves in his descendant.

"Because … he's my uncle … or at least as close as I'm going to get to an uncle. Was he like my father?" Gareth asked his mother.

She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts a moment. "Well, as the note said, that Alistair doesn't know about this Ferelden — as impossible as that sounds — so he may be very, very different from your real uncle; however …" Anora smiled. "The Alistair I knew was funny and kind and humble … often to a fault. He looked more like Grandfather Maric than your father did." Her eyes started to glisten. "He could always make me laugh." Then, she forbade the tears from forming. "But, he could also make me very cross! He was definitely a Theirin." She turned a fond frown to her son.

"I want to meet this Alistair, Mother. I'm almost thirteen. The nobles are already pushing their daughters at me. I believe I'm old enough to travel the country I'll be the king of soon." Then, he turned his blue eyes to Loghain. "Don't you agree, Gan?"

Loghain held Gareth's shoulders. "I believe we need to let your mother think about it overnight." He glanced at Anora. "She'll let you know what her decision is in the morning. However, I'd like you to think about something. If this Alistair is not too unlike the Alistair I know, I shall bring him here as soon as I can. In the interim, you can study about the Grey Wardens and the Battle at Ostagar that ended the Blight. You would be unable to do that on the road, my boy." He motioned to the books on the table. "I've seen the size of those books, much like the size of many of those laying all over this room. We won't be able to carry those tomes on horses. Grandfather Maric has declared we take only basic supplies. No wagons."

Gareth frowned and Loghain swore Cailan had possessed him at that moment. He'd seen that very look on Cailan's face time and again. "I suppose you make a good point. I would like to be prepared when I meet him."

"Spend some time in the warden compound. They've got a very good library there, too." Loghain smiled.

That brightened the boy's face. Loghain had to force his eyes not to roll when he realized he'd just given leave for Cailan's son to become as enamored with the Grey Wardens as Cailan had been.

Anora walked over and put her arm around Gareth's shoulder. "Gan and Grandfather will be sure to send you updates as they know them." She looked at Loghain, the appreciation clear on her face. "I'll make certain a runner is stationed at the Main Gate to intercept any messages from you or Maric as soon as they arrive."

Loghain turned to Gareth. "Be sure to keep the Orlesians out while we're gone."

"They'll not darken our door in your absence, Gan!"

Loghain bowed and left, heading toward his own suite of rooms. Something Varric said about Seeker Leliana and her Templars set off Loghain's own alarm bells. If the dwarf was twitchy about it, then Loghain knew that there was probably something to find out about.

It was bad enough that the Divine didn't invite Ferelden's Grand Cleric … although, Loghain had to admit that the slight saved Dorothea's life. He liked Dorothea — forgave her for being Orlesian — but he didn't trust the political world she lived in. It was a blessing that she imprinted another mabari after Righteous went to the Maker's Side. Loghain had a feeling she would need Steadfast soon, being one of the few Grand Clerics left alive.

As Loghain turned a corner in the hallway, he spied Warden Captain Gavin standing before his door.

AN: Slowly, the rest of Ferelden finds out that Alistair … or the Herald of Andraste … has returned. Next week? It's the wardens' turn to find out! Thank you all so much for your reviews, favorites and follows. They really brighten my day! :)

Paul Lenzen, thanks so much for the boost! Hope you continue to enjoy it. :)

Judy, every "Excellent!" just makes me wanna keep going … thanks! :)