We just received word from the King. Darkspawn have emerged from the Kochari wilds.

Their have been sightings as far north as lake Calinhad. I said I wanted some action, but nothing like this.

The castle is bustling with activity. Blades are being sharpened, horses readied. The yard is abustle with activity. Soldiers from all over the Teyrnir are amassing in Highover.

My heart soars at the thrill of it all.

Yet to tell the truth I'm also scared shitless. I've read about the Blights and the horrors the Darkspawn brought to the surface in those ages. I've read about the armies they've smashed. The cities they have destroyed. The empires they have annihilated, and the Kingdoms they've laid to waste. All this is coming to Ferelden. My home. Thank the maker we seem to have caught it early, but even the shortest Blight lasted twelve years.

But others have lasted generations. But then again the duration of the Blights has been on a downward slope,192 years for the first,the second was 90,15 for the third, and 12 for the Fourth, maybe this one really can be smothered in it's crib. But alas, "catching it early would mean what a year of war? Two?

We will win in the end of course, as we always do. This tale always ends the same way, with a Grey Warden slaying the Archdeamon and the Darkspawn retreating back underground. But the cost. How many thousands will die before this war ends? Will I be among them? Will Father and Fergus die. I mustn't let such thoughts get to my head.