Disclaimer: All right to the Dragon Age series belong to Bioware and, sadly, EA.

"Open the gates!"

The large wooden doors opened with a loud creak, revealing the throne room of Denerim's Royal Palace. It was a drastic change from the Imperial Palace in Val Royeaux, what with its dour look and emptiness. Where the Imperial Palace had been vibrant and colorful, the Royal Palace was dull and plain. More than that it was practical and spoke truths about the spirit of the Ferelden people, unlike the elaborate veils the Orlesians wore to mask their own truths. It was as Dante preferred it anyway.

Beside Dante walked Rex, with the same steely determination of his master, and Finn, who looked at the tapestries and carvings that bordered the room's walls with a boyish curiosity. Before walking in, he had been warned.

"Do not touch anything," Dante had said with a finger in the young mage's face. The boy made a slight grimace and chuckled nervously.

"No promises."

It would have had to suffice.

Now, Dante walked towards the Ferelden throne… and the man sitting upon it. By the time they had reached the foot of the small set of stairs leading to the throne, Bann Teagan began to speak.

"You come before Alistair Theirin! Grey Warden and King of Ferelden, First of His Name, the— "

"Yes, yes Teagan. I think the Hero of Ferelden knows who I am."

Alistair got up from his throne and began walking towards Dante, while Teagan grumbled in the background. Alistair hadn't changed a bit. His blonde hair remained messy and undone, with most of it standing up at the front, and some dirt could be spotted on the side of his face. That joyful grin, that seemed to stretch from ear to ear, also remained unchanged.

"You know I hate when you call me that," Dante said. Their hands clasped and an echo resonated across the room as they did. Rex jumped a little at the sound, but he is ignored while the two old friends pat each other's backs.

"Yea, well, that's why I keep using it."

Dante smiled. "It's been too long, Alistair."

"I can tell!" Alistair laughed and pointed at Dante's face. "Is that a wrinkle I see? Ouch. Has Morrigan been hard on you?"

Dante smacked Alistair's hand away. "How did you know I found her?"

"I'll take that as a 'yes' then."

"Morrigan is fine! She asked about you, you know?"

"Oh really? What did she say?"

"She wanted to know if that crown of yours had given you any sense." The slight traces of a grin appeared on Dante's face. "From what I can tell… not much."

Alistair clutched his heart as if he had been struck by an arrow. "Oh! You wound me!"

Dante laughed and they began to walk towards the king's chambers. Despite their initial jests, there was a serious matter that needed to be attended too. It had been written in a cryptic letter meant for the king's eyes only and was sent almost immediately after Dante had emerged from the Eluvian. It was a matter that needed to be kept private. As they began walking, Finn and Rex followed, until Dante pointed at Finn.

"You stay."

Finn's jaw dropped in surprise. "What? Why?"

"I won't say it again."

"Fine," Finn grumbled. He crossed his arms and watched as Rex continued to walk alongside Dante. "How come he gets to go?" he blurted out.

Dante turned and raised an eyebrow. "Because he's my dog. Are you my dog?"

"Well… no."

"Then?"

The door slammed shut behind Dante and he turned to see Alistair take a seat on one of the couches by the fire. Alistair waved over one of the elven servants and talked gently.

"Could you get us some ale? Two mugs… unless…," Alistair points at Rex, who merely wags his tail expectantly. "Does he even drink?"

"He's a dog."

"Hey! I've seen a mabari down a gallon of Grey Whiskey!"

"Mhm. How did that mabari feel come morning?"

Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and nodded. "Good point. Two mugs. Thanks."

The servant girl's face flushed and she nodded fervently. She walked away hurriedly to fulfill the king's request. Dante could only shake his head at the scene, while Rex lay his head on his paws and whimpered. Dante rolled his eyes, smiled, and reached down to scratch behind the dog's ears.

"I see you still haven't embraced your role as king," he said to Alistair.

Alistair shot Dante a quizzical glance. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You asked. A king isn't supposed to ask. A king is supposed to command," Dante pointed out. Alistair sighed and tapped his foot. The discussion was an unwelcome one, which the bastard king had probably heard one too many times.

"I don't want to look like a – well – a cunt."

Dante shook his head and sat next to Alistair. The fire crackled in front of them and in it Dante could see a hundred battles. He looked away and folded his arms.

"All kings are cunts," he said.

"Yeah well, cunt kings usually end up with their heads on spikes, if you didn't know."

"You'll be fine so long as you aren't that big of a cunt."

Alistair shook his head. "Whatever! Enough about cunts! You came here for a reason, didn't you? It just wouldn't be like you to visit if you didn't have one. So, let's get to the point please?"

Dante blinked in surprise. Alistair had never liked the idea of being king, but he had accepted the role nonetheless. Still, he didn't like to be reminded of it. Despite his ravings of not being an actual king, Dante could still see his potential. Ferelden was prospering under his rule and had graciously recovered from the damage done by the Fifth Blight. The people loved him for his down-to-earth demeanor, while nobles simply gave him their begrudging respect and loyalty. However, it would not be enough until Alistair fully accepted his place in all of it. Convincing him of such was not Dante's place or purpose though. It was Alistair who would have to do that. Besides, his only purpose was to cure the Calling.

"I need access to the information concerning the disappearances around Lake Calenhad."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The words that came out of Alistair's mouth were forced. The muscles on his neck had also tensed when he said it and his eye twitched. Lying was an art that remained foreign to Alistair, it seemed.

"Fifty people have disappeared in the area surrounding Lake Calenhad. Thirty-three of them were mages, while the others were dwarves. Last month, a patrol encountered ten survivors in a cave. All of them were dying from the Taint." Dante leaned towards Alistair with narrowed eyes. Alistair, on the other hand, refused to look at him. "I need access to whatever information you can give me."

Alistair's shoulder sagged in defeat. He rubbed his eyes and looked back at Dante with a slight shake of his head. "How do you even know this?" he asked through a heavy sigh.

Dante remained stone cold in his demeanor. "Morrigan," he said simply. Alistair threw his hands up in frustration.

"Of course it was!" he said. Dante frowned at Alistair.

"I don't see why you're making this any more than it needs to be. I'm offering my help in this."

"No. It's not that. It's just— "Alistair stopped for a minute, trying to search for the right words. Finally, he spoke. "Bann Teagan and some of the other nobles wanted this to be kept silent."

"Why?"

Alistair paused again, before continuing. "Because it the survivors weren't just Tainted. They also had… lyrium growing out of them."

It was Dante's turn to pause. This hadn't been what he was expecting. No matter how many scenarios he could play in his head, life always dealt him its most impossible hand.

"Lyrium?" he asked breathlessly. Alistair made a solemn nod before continuing.

"Not just any kind either. This one was red."

Dante leaned back and flexed his jaw. Red lyrium? He had never heard of such a thing. If it was growing out of Tainted individuals, then… would that mean it was connected to the Blight somehow?

"It was nothing like I had ever seen before, Dante," Alistair continued, "The survivors were… insane. They were rambling in some strange language. At first, we thought it was ancient elven, but when we brought in some linguists to translate – well – they couldn't understand it. 'Strange, yet familiar,' I think is what they said."

At that moment, the servant girl had returned with two mugs full of ale. Alistair grabbed one and smiled at the elf, while Dante remained immobile as he looked at the fire, lost in thought. Alistair tapped Dante's shoulder, causing him to jump a little. Alistair pointed at the cup of ale, but Dante shook his head. He got up and rolled his shoulder.

"It's time I take my leave."

Alistair scoffed with a grin. "Already? You're about to miss the main event! I was about to make Teagan dance for us. Command him, actually! All kingly and stuff."

Dante let himself smirk a little at the reference, while Alistair broke into laughter. When all had quieted down, he shook his head.

"I can't. Next time perhaps?"

Alistair smiled sadly and chuckled. "Sure."

Dante turned to leave. Before he did, however, he turned around and looked at Alistair's eyes. He frowned, and Alistair raised his eyebrows.

"Something on my face?" he asked. Dante shook his head, but his eyes bore into Alistair's.

"Your eyes. They've dimmed."

"What?"

"Your eyes. They're supposed to be a glowing icy blue… but… they're not."

"They aren't?" Alistair rubbed his left eye and blinked a few times. It was true. Alistair's eyes had turned into a pale brown as if they were returning to their original color. "Well… yours are the same."

"I know. Strange." He turned around and opened the door to leave. As he opened the door, Alistair called out to him.

"By the way! The survivors mentioned a hooded man that saved them. Now, there have also been reports of a hooded creature helping travelers around Redcliffe. Whether or not there's any connection… well, you'll figure it out."

Dante nodded and took a deep breath. Behind him was his greatest friend, one he had shared many an adventure with. One he would gladly die for. And now, he was saying goodbye.

"It was good to see you again… Your Majesty."

Alistair laughed, before clearing his throat. "You too… O' great Hero."

Dante hadn't wanted to visit Vigil's Keep. It would've meant a return to the Wardens and the duty he had decided to leave behind. It would've meant confronting the shame he had meant to run away from. Yet, in the notes Alistair's spymaster had given him it was implied that the Grey Wardens had more information about red lyrium, but were unwilling to cooperate. If such a thing was true, then it would mean… well, he wasn't sure what it would mean. All he knew was that it was something worth investigating. Besides, Dante would need companions if he was going to venture into the Deep Roads as he had planned. Rex and the boy were not enough.

"So what did you and the King talk about?"

Finn was nosy, a side effect of being curious. He was also talkative, a side effect of lacking common sense. Yet, he had proven useful and Dante knew that he would need the boy should trouble arise. Avernus had trusted him, after all. Something which may not have proven beneficial in the end. Dante could hear the Archdemon Elixir as he sloshed inside the vial on his belt with every step he took. He knew to be wary of it, but he also knew of its benefits.

"It grants supernatural abilities that transcends anything I had thought possible" was the old man's words. At the same time, though, he had warned him of the consequences that would come from drinking it. Warnings Dante had taken to heart.

"We discussed many things," Dante replied with an air of mockery.

"Yes, but what?" Finn seethed. Dante let out a dry chuckle.

"Like cunt kings and disappearances and…," Dante paused to let the next two words sink in, "red lyrium."

"Wait. What?"

"I'm not repeating myself."

"B-but that's important and I just trying to make sure I heard you right! Did you say red lyrium?"

Dante looked back at Finn. "What do you know about it?"

Finn looked up at the sky in serious contemplation. It may have been the first time Dante had seen him take a subject seriously. Most of the time, there was that boyish attitude that came with every new thing they saw and every complaint he ever made. Now, however, there was silence.

"It was the only lesson Avernus refused to teach me. Well, that and how to cook."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Look I—," he stops and bites his tongue before continuing, "One day, I was looking through Avernus's notes, which are — let me tell you — amazing! He actually learned to manipulate blood to take a solid—"

"The point!"

"Ugh. Fine! Anyway, I found notes on a form of lyrium that seemed to hold effects opposite to that of normal lyrium. I don't know the details. Avernus stopped me before I could take a real good look at it. Then, he threw them in a pot of acid."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Dante made a slight grunt in understanding and prodded over the new information. He didn't see the gate to Vigil's Keep until he heard the guards.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

Dante raised his head slowly so that the guards could see the pair of glowing eyes underneath his black hood. They nodded in understanding and let go of their sheathed swords. The sun shined off their sleek Silverite armor and they stood in front of the gate with careful discipline and stoical faces. They had been coined the Silver Order and had once been personally trained by Dante himself. Yet from the two faces, he could only recognize the guard on the right. Dante and Finn dismounted from their horses and led them by their reins towards the entrance.

"Your business here?" the guard on the left asked. Dante pulled down his hood and the right guard gasped. The other guard looked at the other in question, but the guard on the right continued to look at Dante, jaw dropped. It was then that Dante spoke.

"My name is Dante Cousland, former Warden-Commander of Ferelden. I have returned."

The courtyard smelled of mead, sweat, and steel. It was abuzz with the sounds of recruits laughing over their tankards, blacksmiths hammering away at their work, merchants haggling over their goods, and guards as they spar. On the battlements and in the wide towers, the Silver Order stood over them motionless in their glistening silver armor. Near the entrance of the prison, a dwarf in Warden armor chased an elf with an empty tankard while the others laughed and cheered. In front of the statue of Andraste, a Warden recruit was praying. In the training yards, a trainer berated his trainee for his performance as the others went back and forth with their fights. A group of Wardens, armored and glum, made their way past Dante and through the gates to begin their patrol. But as Dante passed them, he could hear the whispers and feel the silence that came behind him. Vigil's Keep held its breath with every one of his steps and the eyes of its onlookers fell upon him.

"That's him."

"The Hero of Ferelden."

"-thought he died."

The whispers were incessant, yet necessary. Let them grasp at straws as they create their rumors. Let them hero worship to their heart's content. It would make the truth that much more bitter. Despite it all, though, Dante ignored them and carried on. His purpose was the palace in front of him, a dull and dreary thing even as it basked in the sun. Its roofs were a dark crimson and its walls a dark grey, and it stretched across the width of the fortress and its pointed towers climbed halfway up the length of the mountainside the fortress was built in front of. As Dante neared, the large doors of the palace swung open and out came an entourage of Grey Wardens and the two Warden-Commanders who stood out from the bunch. Their grey armor lay in plates over their striped coat mail, as the silver Warden emblem on their chest piece shined in the sun. Their heads searched the crowd that had gathered behind Dante and his company, before finally settling on him with an accusing glare. Dante gave them a glare of his own and, finally, the whispers stopped. The blacksmiths stopped hammering away. The recruits ceased laughing. The merchants halted their haggling. The guards dropped their wooden swords. The dwarf held off on his chase and the elf stood still and stared. For a moment, all that was heard was the whistling of the cool breeze as it rushed past them.

The Warden-Commander on the left Dante recognized. A weathered woman with a shaved head and a face full of wrinkles and small scars, Dante had met her following the Darkspawn Civil War, in a meeting in Weisshaupt Fortress with the other Warden-Commanders. Her name was Clarel, the Commander of the Grey in Orlais. They had not agreed on certain philosophies and their relations were a bit soured. The other one — which he could assume was his replacement — Dante could not recognize, nor did he necessarily care to. He was a withered old man with a limp, small face, and a slight hunched back, yet his eyes held a certain wisdom to them. What he looked to lack in physical ability, he more than made up with experience it seemed. Dante could not blame them for the pointed accusations that came from their glares. In their eyes, a thousand words were spoken on the neglect of duty and shirking of responsibility. He had left, and it had come without much explanation. However, they had no right to judge him. Not now or ever.

"So, you've finally returned, Dante Cousland." Clarel spoke with a tone heavy with disdain.

"I have."

"For what purpose?"

Dante smirked. "My own. Is it wrong now for me to see the state of things? Is it wrong for me to lay witness to my legacy?"

With that, the old man mouth twitched, and his neck tensed. His voice came out as frail and hollow. "It is wrong for one to abandon that legacy and leave it to rot!"

Dante's eyes hovered over to the old man and he tilted his head in inquiry. "Did I leave it to rot? Does my legacy," he raised his hands and looked around the fortress and the crowd of faces, "looked rotted to you?"

The old man gripped his cane and opened his mouth to respond, however Clarel raised his hand to stop to which he promptly complied. It seemed she was the true power between the two of them. Dante's smirk dissipated as Clarel spoke.

"Why are you here, Dante Cousland?"

He hated the way she said his full name and he hated the condescending tone she said it with. She had no right to accuse him of shirking a duty that he had already fulfilled. Yet, he still had a purpose.

"For reasons best spoken of in private," he said with a serious glare. Clarel nodded and turned her back to him.

"Then by all means," she said with a wave of her hand, "come along."

Dante made a slight nod and entered the palace with Rex and Finn in silent tow. The two Warden-Commanders walked ahead, along with their entourage.

"Well, someone is grumpy," Finn muttered. The smile on his face was one poorly concealed behind his hand. Rex made a lectured bark and Finn scratched the back of his head with a smirk.

"What? I'm not being disrespectful! Just stating the obvious…"

Another lectured bark comes, and a slight growl emanated from Rex's throat. Finn threw his hands up in defeat. "Just because your job is stressful doesn't mean you have to be a total bitch about it!"

Rex responded with a series of barks as he lectured Finn on the burden of leadership, while Finn retorted with a series of loud words and hand gestures. Finally, Dante snapped.

"Quiet!"

They both went silent. Rex grumbled and Finn rubbed the back of his neck. "You started it," he muttered to the old dog.

The fire at the center of the throne room crackled silently and rays of light shined through the open windows of the room's vaulted ceiling. They walked past the tall columns and the large wooden throne at the end of the room. The group of Wardens in front of them stopped to guard the door to the palace library as Clarel and the other Warden-Commander enter. Dante entered after them.

The library hadn't changed much. It was still small, cramped, and smelled of old and fresh parchment. Books and crumpled paper stretched across the floor, some neatly stacked and others messily piled. Light poured from the large window at the side of the room and filled the dusty room. Dante pinched his nose to keep from sneezing and kicked aside any books in his way. Finn looked at the mess in wide-eyed horror and stood paralyzed at the sight, before rushing forward and collecting the books on the floor while muttering incoherently. On a chair, with an oversized tankard in his hand and a braided beard full of ale, sat a broad shirtless dwarf with his feet stacked on a large table at the far end of the room. His hair was combed back and the bright red it once held had faded to adopt a lighter shade to compensate for the grey. A long scar traced down his blind left eye and auburn tattoos were spread out over his face. His whole appearance was of an older, rougher man, but when he saw Dante, he broke out into a large grin.

"It can't be," he said in sustained disbelief, before breaking out into a roar of a laugh and rushing towards Dante. He pushed past Clarel and the other and stumbled a little as he did, but ultimately reached Dante with an outstretched hand that Dante clasped with a grin of his own.

"By the Blighted Stone, it is you, you marvelous, glorious bastard!" His voice had a slight slur to it, but it wasn't anything Dante hadn't already been used to. He may have forgotten his face, but he could never forget his voice.

"How are you, Oghren?"

"Drunk. No real surprise there, but I'm fine. Ancestors be damned, I'm better than fine. I'm friggin' great!" He looked at Clarel with a puffed-up chest that did nothing to hide his thick, burly chest hair, which had crumbs of food stuck to it. "This is the guy I was telling you Orlesian whelps about you! Mister Badarse, himself! Hope you brought your brown pants."

"Yes, Oghren. The legendary Hero of Ferelden himself." The words came out of her mouth like a tired yawn. "If you could leave for a moment. We have much to discuss with The Warden and would like you to take your," she looked at the spilled ale and crumbs on the floor and back to the shirtless, swaying dwarf in front of her, "business somewhere else."

Oghren turned to Dante. "You in some kind of trouble, Dante? Need me to kick their arses for you?"

"Now Oghren," the old Warden-Commander began, "I have already told you of the consequences of your continued drunken behavior. There will not be a second warning!"

"Ah, shut your hole Lubin." Oghren looked back at Dante and snickered. "H-His name is Lubin."

"Oghren—"

"Shut your arse!"

"Oghren." The last voice was Dante, as he pat Oghren's shoulder. "We'll talk later."

Oghren grunted and scoffed. "Hmph. Fine. I'll be outside then, finishing my drink. You meet me out there, ya hear!" He took his leave and, finally, the three commanders were alone, with the exception of the scurrying Finn and sleeping Rex, who had found a comfortable spot atop a pile of books. The three sat down at the long table with Clarel and Lubin together in one end, while Dante sat alone on the other side. Dante crossed his arms and sat in silence while the other two Wardens scrutinized him with heavy eyes. The silence was unnerving and weighed down on his shoulders. There was a burden to it, but Dante couldn't name it. That was the most unnerving of it all. Lubin leaned forward and made a steeple of his thin hands as he spoke.

"Warden Dante, it has been five years since you had been last seen. A large investigation was made surrounding your disappearance. You are aware of this, yes?"

"No, but I'm not surprised. It would've been awfully irresponsible of you not too."

"Where were you?" Clarel asked with measured impatience. Lubin looked at her, but did not say a word. Dante could sympathize with the old man. Clarel was a no more than a guest, a highly respected guest, but a guest nonetheless. She was out of her jurisdiction in Ferelden and out of her place to be taking charge.

"Are you interrogating me?" Dante said with an air of amusement. The pointed glares and accusing scowls had already answered his question, but he wanted to hear them say it.

"You abandoned your post and disappeared for five years," Lubin said with a wave of his hand. "By all accounts, you are a deserter. Now, if you were a normal Warden or a recruit, we would let such a thing go, but you weren't a recruit or a normal Warden. You were the Commander of the Grey."

"You neglected your duty as a Grey Warden during a time when Ferelden was still recovering from the Fifth Blight," Clarel added.

Dante shook his head and laughed. "I did not know that a Grey Warden's duties also involved contributing to the rebuilding effort."

"It has nothing to do with contributing to the rebuilding effort. It has everything to do with further ridding the surface of the Darkspawn that still plagued it and there were still some arou— "

"Were there?" Clarel blinked at the interruption and the firmer tone. Dante glowered at her as he spoke, his scowl growing deeper with every word. "Following the Darkspawn Civil War, all centralized Darkspawn forces had been dealt with and only small remnants remained. If I remember correctly, those remnants were situated in the Korcari Wilds and most villages were being left alone, with the exception of a few small raids that even a group of farmers could guard against. Do not presume to lecture me on the Darkspawn threat at the time, Warden-Commander Clarel. Whilst you were twiddling your thumbs in Orlais, making excuses for whatever pleas for help were sent, I was dealing with the real threat. Now, you may sit and judge for as long as you wish, but I couldn't care less.

"I've come for a singular purpose. Not for a restoration of my position. Not for forgiveness. I've come to cure the Calling."

An empty silence filled the room, interrupted only by Finn's muttering as he organized the books on the shelves. Clarel's face was pale and Lubin's was flushed. The light from the window that once shined on their face was gone and they were left in the shadows. Clarel rapidly tapped her fingers on the table and looked into Dante's eyes. The disgust, the anger, it was gone, only to be replaced with weariness. It was then that Dante noticed it: the sagging shoulders, the bags under her eyes, the deep wrinkles, the paleness. Clarel had the makings of a burdened woman, running the last lap of a very long race. A race for life.

"You've been hearing it too," Dante realized. Clarel nodded and looked at Lubin, whose eyes remain downcast and face solemn. "How long?"

"A few months," she said, "It's been enough."

"Why haven't you gone into the Deep Roads?"

"Because we've all been hearing it," Lubin said.

Dante blinked in shock and frowned. Was there some connection? If the Wardens have been hearing the Calling pre-maturely, then who would be left to fight the next Blight. Better yet, what was causing this?

"Do you hear it now?" he asked. They both nodded slightly. "Strange then that I do not."

"But you had heard it, correct?" Clarel said.

"It's been some time, but yes. The whispers came after a nightmare. Since then… nothing."

"Strange indeed." Lubin stroked his beardless chin in careful contemplation, before turning his attention back to Dante. "You said that you intend to cure it. How?"

Dante wiped away the dust that had collected on his shoulder plates. "That I still don't know. However, I do have a lead. Several, in fact." He turned to the Wardens and leaned forward. "What do you know about red lyrium?"

Clarel's eyes went wide. "How do you know about that?"

"The king is a friend of mine."

Lubin chuckled and put his face in his hands before speaking. "If you must know, it was brought to our attention following a Deep Roads expedition conducted by a group of adventurers under Kirkwall."

"Their names?"

"Unimportant… for now. Anyway, they ventured deeper into the Deep Roads then any have dared and — as you can imagine — they discovered something. An ancient thaig with pre-dwarven architecture."

"Elven?"

"I do not know. In the thaig, a red lyrium idol had been found. The idol had been lost, apparently stolen by one of the adventurers, but, upon investigating further, some of our Grey Warden researchers have discovered a multitude of notes surrounding red lyrium. We've tried to decipher the contents of these notes, but the language was… strange. Not elven, yet it was strangely similar to it."

"So, nothing came out of the notes?"

"Nothing of value. The researchers who continued to decipher the notes ended up going insane. One of them ended up… tossing the notes in a fire. In the end, we closed the investigation."

Dante clenched his jaw. It was another dead end. It seemed his original plan was the only solution after all. Still, there was something that didn't make any sense.

"Were these notes given to Avernus in Soldier's Peak?" he said slowly. His gut knew the ugly answer, but he needed it confirmed.

"No. Why do you ask?"

Dante grit his teeth. "Because he had a collection of them. Finn!" He called out to the boy, but there was no answer. Upon the next call, he could see Finn's dirty head pop out of the corner of the bookshelf. Dante waved him over and so he came, a stack of books in his arms. He set the books on the table before rambling.

"I can't believe the shape these books are in. I saw a copy of "A Catalog of Elven Relics" with a ripped page. A ripped page. Do you know how utterly—"

"Finn!"

"What?"

Dante pointed at the pair of Warden-Commanders at the end of the table. "Tell them about Avernus's notes on red lyrium."

Finn raised his eyebrows, nodded, and turned towards them. "Uh. Let's see. Where do I start? So, it was at night and I was cleaning up Avernus's desk when I noticed a folder on something labeled 'Red Lyrium.' So, I took a look and although some of it was in the Common Tongue, a lot of it was in some sort of elven language. I tried to read it, but he stopped me and threw them away." Dante observed the shocked expressions on Clarel and Lubin's face, before adding his own information.

"I have reason to believe that in Lake Calenhad, around Redcliffe, there is an entrance to an unexplored section of the Deep Roads. A number of disappearances have occurred in that area and King Alistair has informed me of a group of survivors who were found with red lyrium growing out of their bodies. Next to that, they had the Taint. Somehow, it is connected. Now, I seek to investigate but not alone. Give me some men. Let me discover where this entrance leads. If I cure the Calling, all of our problems end."

Clarel and Lubin looked at each other. Clarel leaned over to whisper something in his ear, and Lubin did the same to her. She shook her head, but he continued. His whispers sounded like shuffling mice as he argued his point. Eventually, she relented.

"We," she began, "had had our own plans for dealing with the Calling."

"And what did these plans entail?" Dante responded. She gave a sorrowful shake of her head.

"It's confidential. You need not know."

"Then have you considered my plan?"

There was a pause before she responded. "Yes."

"And?" He was starting to grow impatient and the word came out as a growl.

"We cannot risk such an expedition. But — let me finish! However, you may carry out your plans, but we will spare no men. You can only take volunteers."

The chair had clattered behind him when he had stood up. His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. However, it was better than nothing and it was the only reason he hadn't lost control. He would take what he could get, but it hadn't meant he had to like it. He glared at the two Warden-Commanders before turning his back and leaving.

"Come on," he said to Finn and whistled for Rex. Rex's ears perked up and he got up lazily from the pile of books he had been sleeping on and stretched before joining Dante.

"You're lucky I hadn't gotten to those books yet," Finn told him heatedly. Rex barked happily, and they departed from that dark and dusty library, leaving Clarel and Lubin alone to their thoughts.

Chapter 3 is a work in progress at the moment. Hoping to have it up tomorrow. Also, check out the prequel one-shot I had written called "Legend of the Warden." I wrote it about a month ago and it gives a little more depth to Dante's character as well as his past.