Jowan had never seen a Qunari.

True, he had seldom seen dwarves at the Circle Tower across the years. Human and elven mages, as well as Tranquil and templars, were the common occupants of Kinloch Hold. Yet he'd still seen two or three dwarves, and the number had risen since breaking his phylactery. But never had he encountered one of the bronze oxmen of the north.

And now, he was allies with one.

This particular Qunari, called Sten by the others, lacked the horns his race was known for. Kinloch Hold housed the grandest library in Ferelden, but none of its texts ever mentioned hornless Qunari. Granted, they were rarely mentioned to begin with. Sten was perhaps the most unique person in camp, even without the horns, but he shared a trait with nearly everyone else in the vicinity. This included Morrigan, the Witch of the Wilds; the scarlet-haired Orlesian bard, Leliana; and Alistair, the templar-trained Grey Warden.

They were all watching him like a ticking bomb.

Jowan couldn't blame them. He bore responsibility for the events in Redcliffe. It was Connor who summoned the demon, the demon that wrecked the village and assaulted its people using their resurrected corpses. But Connor became possessed trying to save his father—fallen ill by the poison Jowan had been sneaking him. He recognized parallels between himself and Connor. Both sought power from the Fade and lost more than the power was worth. The resemblances ended there, for Connor made his trade to help others. And I only wanted to save myself by learning blood magic.

The stares from his camp companions had been earned, but the severity varied from person to person. Their eyes spoke clear messages ranging from "I wish you were dead" and "I want to kill you." The common theme of wanting him anywhere but here was the constant. He wouldn't be, if they'd had their way. Bann Teagan had demanded he remain in Redcliffe, to help watch Connor and contain the demon possessing him. More likely than not, he'd have sent Jowan to the dungeon again. The Arlessa could have tortured him again or outright killed him for revealing her share of the blame for Redcliffe's fate.

No one had expected the Right of Conscription, least of all Jowan.

His best friend in the world had stormed into the dungeon and stared at him like a foggy memory. Edmund Amell, a member of the too long a list of people Jowan had betrayed in the span of a month and a half. Ed must have known he'd have received severe punishment for aiding Jowan and Lily, had he not been conscripted.

Regardless, Ed had demanded Jowan's release into his custody. The two nobles had seemed adamant in refusing him every time, even with the Right of Conscription. Isolde refused to drop the argument. But her main defense was Loghain's banishment of Ferelden Wardens. Teagan, perhaps irritated she used him of all men to try to have her way, relented and allowed them to go.

"You plan on eating anything?" Edmund asked him, sitting down beside him on the soft dirt. A day had passed since hitting the road for the Circle Tower; two days remained before they'd reach their goal. Jowan hadn't eaten since long before then, and still hadn't, frozen in shock by his freedom.

Edmund asked the question again, and finally Jowan looked away from Lake Calenhad. Ed's Free Marcher origins were evident in his fair skin and close cropped whitish-blond hair. Spending most his life locked away from the sun had left him burned and peeling and freckling. His steel blue eyes gave off a sense of wisdom and maturity—a blatant lie, Ed oft proclaimed. He appeared the older of the two, thanks to being half a head taller than Jowan and sporting a full beard. In truth, Jowan was older than Ed's eighteen years by two summers.

"Why am I here?" Jowan asked, repeating aloud the question that'd ran through his head since his conscription.

"You said yourself you were tired of running and hiding from what you've done," Ed reminded him. "That you were going to try to fix your mistakes anyway you can. What better way to amend your crimes than by ending a Blight?"

Jowan thought for a second. What Edmund said was true, and Jowan had meant it. He approached the question from a different angle. "Why did you make me a Grey Warden? I'm the last person worthy of the honor."

"You aren't kidding," Alistair muttered nearby, bitter at the turn of events.

Ed shot his fellow Grey Warden a dirty look, then stood back up. "Come with me Jowan, so we can talk in private."

He did as asked, and the two mages skirted down the road. Their party was following the Imperial Highway but weren't actually on it. Loghain, as acting Regent in Queen Anora's name, had declared all Grey Wardens as traitors of the crown. He placed a bounty on their heads, captured or killed for what took place in Ostagar. Divided down the middle, the Bannorn believed Loghan or thought him mad and power hungry.

Jowan had fallen into the first lot. He hadn't accepted Loghain's offer simply as thanks for springing him from the templars. The Hero of River Dane had assured him Eamon had conspired with the Wardens and deserved punishment. No one would have ever known Jowan's involvement had things gone according to plan. Subtle assassination masked as illness would maintain Eamon's guise as a respected lord. There was no need to damage moral by revealing the "truth" about him. But Jowan would have known the good he'd done. That would have been more than enough.

Instead, he was a worse man than ever before. Edmund and Alistair rebutted Loghain's allegations. The Grey Wardens hadn't planned Cailan's loss, and that he might have survived had Loghain not withdrawn. Arl Eamon was just as guiltless, and now lay dying because Jowan had mixed fact with fiction.

"Firstly, I'm sure many people would not want to be in your shoes at this time," Edmund said once they stopped, insight of the camp but out of hearing range. "The Grey Wardens weren't as respected as they deserved before being blamed for regicide. Now? Few would claim honor associating with the Order. Our treaties carry more respect than we do... at least we hope. We're going to put that faith to the test with the Circle of Magi while we're seeking aid for Connor."

"Not all believe Loghain's lies," Jowan pointed out. He wished he'd belonged to that bunch. "Bann Teagan clearly didn't. Word in Redcliffe Castle was that he was loudest in opposing Loghain's declarations."

"You're correct," Edmund admitted. "Which brings me to my second point: the Grey Wardens need to be rebuilt. Alistair and I are all that's left in Ferelden, so far as we know. We, the greenest of the Grey Wardens, are responsible for ending the Blight. Even if we don't know how to make you a real Grey Warden, Warden-Recruit is still technically a Warden."

"What exactly is a 'real' Grey Warden?" Jowan asked, cocking his brow.

"There's... more to being a Grey Warden than bending knee and making an oath to kill darkspawn wherever they may tread."

Jowan waited a moment for clarity, but it didn't come. The realization sunk in. "You can't trust me with the information, can you?" Edmund opened his mouth to speak but Jowan went on. "You don't have to make excuses. There's no need. I promised you and Lily both that the rumors of blood magic were false." Saying her name made him cringe; she was rotting in Aeonar because of his use of forbidden magic. He was free, and she was not. In the perfect world, their roles would be reversed. "Uldred promised I'd finally be ready for my Harrowing if I learned the basics! I was so frightened of Tranquility that I heard him out, and who would know best than my own teacher?"

He hadn't exaggerated. Jowan's last use of blood magic had been in Kinloch Hold. He hadn't practiced it after that day. But an understanding of blood magic must have unlocked something inside him. Tutoring Connor had shown him his newfound capabilities. Spells and entire schools of magic, once well beyond Jowan's grasp, were suddenly easy to muster. His connection to the Fade had strengthened too, granting him a deeper mana pool to draw from.

There was dead silence between the two mages, and Jowan wasn't sure why. Edmund had been on the edge of saying something before the rant, and now his face expressed worry. "Uldred is a blood mage?" he finally uttered.

"I..." Good going, Jowan, you just betrayed your teacher. You really needed to expand the list of people who have every right to hate you. "He is... but only for the same reason as I am! He told me was the weakest in all his classes, and the last to take his Harrowing. Uldred learned blood magic from a demon, and overnight he went from lowly apprentice like me to... well, he compared himself to you."

"The difference is, I didn't consort with demons," Edmund said, arms folded tight across his chest.

But I wanted to be like you. "I don't condone what I've done and it's not excused. But Uldred has excelled thanks to his decision, and I hoped I would too. Freedom was worth any price... I had believed." Jowan lowered his head. "I know better now."

Edmund patted his shoulder. "There's no changing the past, Jowan, but you can change the future. You are allowed to have regrets, so long as you strive to resolve them. Just... try to avoid papercuts, if at all possible."

"I swear I am done with blood magic."

"I know, Jowan." Edmund smiled. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood. I have a third reason for recruiting you, and it's the best one in my opinion."

"Oh?"

Edmund shoved his shoulder playfully. "I couldn't leave my best friend behind! You know I would have run away with you and Lilly if my phylactery hadn't been sent to Denerim."

"So... we're still friends?"

"Of course!" Ed exclaimed. "By the Maker, Jowan, we dreamed about leaving the Circle since the days when you were the taller one! Breathing fresh air, learning how to swim, seeing the world; maybe we didn't get out in the best manner, but we're out. You were scared of becoming a walking statue, and I might have done the same."

"You... you don't know how much it means to me to hear all that," Jowan said. His eyes were starting to sting, but he knew Edmund wouldn't let it die quietly if he cried. He'd teased him about the time Jowan burned his eyebrow off for ten years now.

"Until the others grow to accept you, you can handle me being the only one in your corner, right?"

"I can. After all, I'm used to it. You and Lilly were the only ones who ever believed in me. Even Uldred only took special notice of me because he caught me sneaking around after curfew."

Edmund's smile faded. "Uldred was in Ostagar. More likely than not, he perished there alongside most of King Cailan's army."

He sounded certain, but Jowan wasn't convinced. I've advanced so much in my short time with blood magic. Uldred's known the art longer than I've been alive. He wouldn't go down easily. Following his gut instinct had resulted in nothing but remorse and sorrow, though, so as terrible a consideration it was, maybe it would be best if Uldred had died. Who knows how many blood mages he might have made during his time as an Enchanter. How many of them abused the power or became abominations?

"I suppose you're probably right," Jowan said.

"Ah, well, at any rate, we should return to camp. We have a long day of walking ahead of us, maybe some bouts with darkspawn or bandits along the way."

Jowan snorted. "So everything's going to be just fine, then."

"Definitely," Edmund replied. "What's the worst that could happen at the Circle of Magi?"

A/N: This was written in response to the Minor Character Challenge for October, which Jowan was obviously the pick. I enjoyed doing this chapter and would love to continue on with following Jowan as a Warden-Recruit. But until then, thanks for reading and leave a review if you have the time!