Disclaimer: I do not own the game franchise Dragon Age, the world of Thedas, or any of the canonical characters of the Dragon Age universe. These all belong to Bioware, and I am fortunate enough to be able to play with such a wonderful setting. I do own the specific personality of Yllia Surana and a fertile imagination, which I hope to use to the best of my ability.

Author's Notes: If you're reading this, then I hope that means the prologue made you interested enough to click to the first chapter. Thank you for your interest in my story. This is my first Dragon Age fanfic, and in keeping with my usual style, I cannot simply write short – Yllia, I'm afraid, will not settle down until her story is told, and she's chosen me as her medium through which to tell it – therefore, I'm in this for the long haul. Fatum will cover the events of Dragon Age: Orgins, and I hope that you'll find the tale to be unique enough to be worth your time. Feedback, as always, will be greatly appreciated.

Special thanks to my beta reader and voice of reason, Teakwood, for taking the time to review these chapters and keep me from breaking the fourth wall.

Welcome to Arcanum – please enjoy your stay!

Arcanum: Fatum
Chapter One: Welcome to Ostagar

There was one thing that Yllia knew with certainty upon arriving at Ostagar.

Living in the Circle Tower for almost sixteen years was no kind of preparation for living on a battlefield.

The first thing that hit her was the scent. Ostagar was by no means dry, and this meant that the scent of rain and mildew permeated everything, from the tents to the armor to even – she was sure of it – the weaponry. Gone were the slightly perfumed scents of the Tower's bathing areas, the musty smells of ages-old books in the library. Funny how she'd never really thought about such things until they simply weren't there anymore.

Then there were the people – the space was by no means small, but she felt a touch of claustrophobia nonetheless. The various armies gathered had their own separate areas, tents crowded together and soldiers milling about between them. The Circle Tower had a good number of mages, but there was enough space for all of them to get by without feeling closed in amongst the others. And the noise – the noise. She was used to the quiet peace of magic studies, with the occasional explosion from a misplaced Fireball. Not the raucous jeering and gesturing echoing from all corners of the encampment.

"Not the same thing as the Tower, is it?"

At the sound of Duncan's voice, Yllia felt her cheeks flush as she realized she'd been standing in the entrance to the base camp just…staring. Yes, Yllia, she admonished herself, act like a complete and utter fool. Anyone can look at you and tell that you're green. She fought back her blush, willing – no, pleading – for the heat to diminish. Duncan sounded…well, if not amused, then the next best thing.

So she did the only thing she could do when faced with unbearable embarrassment – she plastered a smile onto her face and affected the cheeriest tone she could. "Not in the slightest," she agreed. "It's very….open." She hoped that was a diplomatic enough response.

"And far more crowded, noisy, and odorous, I imagine," Duncan finished, and this time the amusement was obvious. There went that blush again. Maker, save me, Yllia inwardly groaned. Eighteen summers old and stepping foot away from Lake Calanhad for the first time in her life, and she might as well have "Freshly Harrowed Mage, Good for Laughs!" tattooed across her forehead.

She cringed. Her thoughts were getting snarky. That wasn't a good thing.

"Well…yes," she admitted, feeling a little sheepish and more than a touch chastised. "I'm sorry. I know that it can't be helped, situation as it is, I just… I've never lived beyond the Circle. I wasn't…"

"Prepared for this." Duncan's brief amusement slipped away and the Grey Warden's serious expression fell back into place. "I know. And if there had been more time to prepare you… but there isn't, and this is how it is."

Yes, she thought in agreement. This is how it is. This would be her life now, once she was made a full Grey Warden. If this was a true Blight, as Duncan had stated determinedly more than once in their travels, then battles against the darkspawn would only become more frequent. She swallowed hard at that thought. True, she could wield magic with no little skill – she wasn't modest enough to not accept the praise of her mentors as truth – but she'd never done so in a combat situation.

Had she made the right choice, convincing Duncan to conscript her this way? Would it have been better for him to select a stronger mage, one with more experience, more ability?

She was drawn out of her uncertain thoughts as they came through a large archway by the sound of armor-clad footsteps approaching, and she looked up to see a group of men moving towards them. Most of them looked like regular soldiers, but one of them in specific drew her attention.

And given the brilliance of his golden armor, she suspected that was exactly what he intended to do.

"Ho there, Duncan!" The blonde, gold-clad man strode forward to clasp Duncan's hand in greeting, his overly familiar greeting surprising Yllia – particularly because Duncan looked rather taken aback himself. Just who was this man?

"King Cailan?" Duncan said, quickly composing himself and responding as Yllia nearly choked on her own breath. "I didn't expect-"

"A royal welcome?" The king gave Duncan a rather charming smile, his voice tinged with amusement. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"

Yllia stared at the two men during their exchange. This was Cailan Theirin, son of Maric and king of all Ferelden? She'd never even seen a painting of him before, and she didn't pay too much attention to politics; since she'd believed her entire life would be lived out within the Circle of Magi's tower, there hadn't seemed to be much point. Politics was something the First Enchanters and the other seniors dealt with, not the apprentices.

She knew King Cailan had only held the throne for five years, having assumed it only after King Maric's death, but…well, she wasn't sure what she'd been expecting in terms of the King, but she was pretty sure the overly eager man before wasn't it. As she listened to his exchange with Duncan, it became rather obvious to her that the two men did not share the same opinion in terms of the upcoming battle – Duncan regarded it as a very grave and serious matter, whereas Cailan acted as though it were a mere skirmish and would be over soon enough.

"The other Wardens told me you've found a promising recruit," she suddenly heard Cailan say, and with a start realized that he'd turned her attention towards her. "I take it this is she?"

Duncan nodded. "Allow me to introduce you, Your Majesty," he said.

Cailan waved off his formality. "There's no need to be so formal, Duncan," he said. "We'll be shedding blood together, after all." He turned that welcoming smile onto Yllia then, and she found herself getting a touch flustered. It wasn't every day that you had a king speak to you, after all. "Ho there, friend. Might I know your name?"

Yllia clasped her hands together in front of her and willed her hands to not start fidgeting. "Yllia, Your Majesty," she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. "My name is Yllia Surana."

"Pleased to meet you," Cailan replied. He gave a slight nod in Duncan's direction. "The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them. I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?"

Oh, wonderful. Nothing like being put on the spot. "I'll do my best, your Majesty," she replied, putting on the most confident smile that she could muster and hoping against hope that he wouldn't ask her something like how long she'd been out of her apprenticehood.

The answer, however, seemed to satisfy Cailan, evidenced by the cheerful, "Excellent!" that he gave in response. "We have too few mages here, another is always welcome. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."

Yllia bowed her head once. "Thank you, your Majesty," she murmured.

Cailan nodded once, and then spoke to both her and Duncan. "I'm sorry to cut this short," he said, and he truly did sound regretful, "but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies."

Yllia was relieved to have the king's attention off of her, directing her attention to glancing around the ruins while Cailan and Duncan spoke, until something else the king said caught her attention. "I'm not even sure this is a true Blight," he was saying as he turned away from them, and there was no little disappointment to his words. "There are plenty of darkspawn on the field but, alas, we've seen no sign of an archdemon."

"Disappointed, your Majesty?" Duncan asked quietly.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales!" Cailan's words took on a wistful tone. "A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But...I suppose this will have to do." He shook his head slightly and turned back to them. "I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens."

And with that the king turned and left with his guards as quickly as he had appeared, leaving both Duncan and Yllia standing in the entrance to Ostagar, alone.

When he had disappeared within Ostagar once more and she was absolutely certain he was out of earshot, she turned a questioning look to the man beside her. "Is he…often like that?" she asked, hoping that she wasn't being too tactless.

Duncan didn't appear to be put off by her question. "Yes," he said simply. "The King means well, and he is the Wardens' greatest supporter – Maker knows we can use more of those, but…" He paused, letting the word hang in the air. Yllia understood. King Cailan meant well, but it was obvious that he was not taking the situation as seriously as Duncan felt that he should be.

"The battle…it's not going to go as well as he's hoping, is it?" Yllia asked softly, an uneasy feeling gathering in the pit of her stomach.

"For all of our sakes I want to hope it does," Duncan said grimly, "but the truth is, I do not believe so. This is a true Blight, I and every other Grey Warden know it, but if we cannot convince the nobility of it than it is as we are simply throwing rocks at an avalanche in hopes of ending it. In the days of old the word of a Warden on the presence of an archdemon would have been enough – now they want visual proof. And by the time we gain such, it may be too late."

That uneasiness was swiftly accompanied by a chill. "You were saying that some of the armies aren't here yet – what will happen if the darkspawn reach us before they do?"

"Then we will have no choice but to fight the darkspawn with the men that we have," Duncan replied. "Which is why we must proceed with your Joining as swiftly as possible. I apologize – I'm afraid there will be very little time for you to rest before the ritual."

"Ritual?" Yllia looked at him, startled. It was the first time he'd mentioned anything about a ritual. Being a mage, the word 'ritual' brought all sorts of images to mind, and not all of them were exactly welcome. "What…kind of ritual?"

"Nothing that I can get into at this time," Duncan said with such firmness in his tone that she didn't dare press the matter. "You'll find out when the time comes." He paused, as though thinking to himself, and then motioned across the stonework bridge ahead of them. "The Grey Warden camp is across this bridge. Why don't you take some time to orient yourself with the camp, perhaps seek out some of the other mages? There's another Grey Warden here at camp by the name of Alistair; he'll be able to answer some of your questions. When you're ready, have him bring you to me. I have some things to deal with in the meantime."

And with that Duncan set off across the bridge, leaving Yllia to watch after him, and wonder just what sort of life she had exchanged the Circle Tower for.

Despite Duncan's veiled instructions on finding other mages to speak with, it was the stone pillars of the Ostagar ruins that drew Yllia's attention.

She'd read about the Tevinter occupation from books in the Circle's libraries, but the history behind it had always been in an abstract form. It was written on the pages of books, and therefore she knew it had happened, but her understanding of it had never gone beyond the written word and inked illustrations.

Standing now before the very real ruins of the structures she had seen in the books brought her history lessons to an entirely new level.

She reached out and lightly ran her fingers along the cold, moss-covered stone. Despite the years the stonework still felt as smooth as it must have the day that the pillar had been erected. She tilted her head up and tried to imagine what it must have looked like in its heyday – what other parts had been attached to it, what sort of structure had it been before war and time had reduced it to all it stood as now? All of those questions ran through her mind, and she was touched with the sadness of knowing that she would probably never have those answers.

A keening whimper from her left made her pause and blink, and she turned to find herself unexpectedly face-to-face with a large wooden wall that stood higher than her. Of course, being an elf, that wasn't a difficult feat – a human of average height had a good half a foot on her most of the time. Being shorter than humans was aggravating enough; being on the short side for an elf was an entirely different kettle of fish.

The whimper came again, and Yllia's curiosity got the better of her again as she followed the length of the wall. It wasn't that large, and when she turned the corner she realized it wasn't a wall at all – it was a fence, and the fence to an animal pen on top of that. She looked through the open spaces between the slats at the front of the pen, and could make out the dark form of an animal lying on its side. The whimpers were coming from it.

"Looks like the poor thing's got himself another sympathizer," a rough voice said from her right, and Yllia nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise. "I wouldn't get too close if I were you, though."

She stepped away from the fence and turned to the bearded, light-armored man who had appeared out of nowhere. "I'm sorry," she said hastily. "I heard him, and I couldn't tell where the sound was coming from." She looked back into the pen, and could make out the animal much better now. "He's a Mabari, isn't he?" she asked, recognizing the description of the Ferelden war hound. She'd never seen one herself. No Circle mage had a Mabari of their own.

The man nodded. "I'm the Kennel Master here at Ostagar," he introduced himself. He motioned to the dog. "This guy lost his master in one of the last skirmishes and didn't come out of it too well himself – got poisoned with darkspawn blood, he did."

Yllia looked at the dog in alarm. "Is he going to be all right?" she asked. She couldn't help but kneel down to get a closer look at the dog. He was still lying on his side, but his eyes seemed to follow her when she moved. She knew the Mabari were intelligent, almost as much so as a human, but now she could see that intelligence in his eyes. There was a spark there that one didn't normally see in animals, but it was dampened by the hound's obvious illness.

"I'm doing what I can for him," the Kennel Master replied, and from his sigh he appeared frustrated that he couldn't do more. "But he's anxious and nervous, and I can't get him to calm down long enough for me to get a muzzle on him. I can't have him lashing out and biting, not with the taint in him. He won't let anyone near him."

Yllia rose to her feet, still looking at the dog, and then glanced at the Kennel Master. "Why don't I try?" she suggested. It pained her, seeing such a beautiful animal so clearly sick, its own fear getting in the way of treatment. It was a feeling she herself was immensely familiar with.

She swallowed for a moment, shoving her thoughts to the back of her mind and banishing the memories they tried to bring. Not now.

The Kennel Master looked at her skeptically. Mabari tended to be one-person animals, and they didn't often imprint on anyone else after losing their master – which made them all the more difficult to handle in situations like this. Yllia could see his hesitancy as he looked her over, taking in her slight frame and petite stature. If the dog went for her, it would have the obvious advantage in size and strength.

Ah, the joys of being an elf. Humans took one look at you and automatically assumed that you were weaker and frailer than they were. She'd love to see a human last a three day trek through dense forest with hardly any stopping time and the possibility of sleeping in trees.

The Kennel Master must have seen the look of impatience in her eyes, because finally he nodded and handed her the leather muzzle. He unlatched the gate into the pen and she stepped inside, keeping her eyes on the large canine. She wasn't stupid. She knew it was risky, but she didn't think it was any riskier for her than it was for a human.

The dog didn't move as she came towards him, but when she knelt down next to him he suddenly shifted and surged to his feet, standing up so that his head was now even with hers. She could see how his legs shook from the strain, the poison in his blood having an effect on his ability to stand.

"Easy, boy," Yllia murmured, reaching her free hand out towards his head. He held himself as still as he could, the trembling of his muscles his only movement. She held her breath as her fingers hovered just over his hand – and then she was touching him, slipping her hand behind his head to hold him steady as she brought up the muzzle and slipped in securely over his face. She released the breath she'd been holding and sat back on her knees, stroking his ears lightly for a moment before standing up. He watched her as she walked back to the gate, and then settled back down again, looking relieved to be able to rest once more.

The Kennel Master looked at her in amazement, slowly shaking his head. "Now that's something else," he said. "None of the other handlers have been able to even kneel down before setting him off. You have my thanks, Lady. I'll be able to treat him now, I will."

"Is he going to be all right?" Yllia asked, casting a worried look back in the Mabari's direction.

The Kennel Master pursed his lips. "Once I treat him, he'll have a fighting chance," he said, "but unfortunately the one medicine that will really help I'm completely out of. It's made from a flower that grows in the Wilds, you see, and I'm not permitted to go out there to harvest it. Not now, with the darkspawn so close and the battle upcoming."

Yllia thought quickly. Duncan had mentioned in passing that Grey Wardens weren't restricted to the same rules at the camp as the rest of the soldiers, though he hadn't specified what the difference was. But if there was even a chance she found herself in the Wilds, then maybe she could help. "What does this flower look like?" she asked curiously. "Maybe I can help."

"It's a nice thought, Lady," the Kennel Master said, "but I doubt you'd have any better of a chance getting into the Wilds than I would – if the soldiers aren't permitted then the mages certainly aren't."

He knew she was a – oh. Right. She supposed the apprentice robes and the staff strapped to her back were a pretty obvious tip off. "But I'm not one of the army mages," Yllia replied. "I'm a Grey Warden recruit."

His reaction was almost comedic with the way his eyes grew so large they threatened to drop right out of his head. She wasn't sure if she ought to feel amused or indignant – was it really that difficult to imagine her as a Warden? Her expression must have shown her thoughts again, because he managed to compose himself and even look a little contrite. "Well, that changes the situation a bit," he said. "Certainly if you come across the flower, I'd appreciate the help." He gave her a quick but detailed description of the plant, then asked if she needed him to write to down – an offer she immediately waved off, assuring him that she had studied herbalism enough to remember the description.

When he asked if there was anything he could help her with in return she almost waved it off – until it occurred to her just how much time she'd spent staring at walls and helping with the Mabari. A good portion of the day had gone by, the sun already beginning its downward descent.

"Actually," Yllia said, "I don't suppose you might know where I can find someone named Alistair?"

Alistair.

It was unlikely there would ever come a day when Yllia would not vividly recall her first meeting with her fellow Warden, though at the time she had no way of knowing just how important that moment would end up being in her life. At the time they'd simply been two normal people - well, as normal as one could possibly be, given the circumstances of their lives.

Yllia's first impression of Alistair was of a twenty-something young man who hadn't quite grown into himself yet, covering inexperience and hesitation with attempts at wit and charm – sometimes a little too much wit and charm, but there was something disarming about his smile as he sarcastically argued with the mage he was speaking to while she approached that made one of her own tug at her lips.

"You know," Alistair said as the mage stalked off in irritation, turning to the young elf standing off to the side, "one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Yllia glanced after the retreating figure. "He seemed pretty irritated with you," she said.

"Oh, you know how it is – everyone always wants to shoot the messenger." He shook his head, and then paused, giving her a closer look. "We…haven't met before, have we? Are you a mage?"

"Maybe it's not as obvious as I thought," she said, earning her a blink and slight head tilt. She shook her head. "Yes, I'm a mage – but I'm not one of the army mages."

"I was going to say that you didn't look…" He paused, and then realization dawned on him even as he spoke. "Wait. I do know you. You're the new recruit that Duncan brought in, aren't you, from the Circle of Magi? Yeah, he told me you were looking around."

"Then you must be Alistair," Yllia said with relief, glad that she'd actually tracked down the right person and wasn't just talking to some random stranger. Well, yes, he was a stranger, but he wasn't precisely random. "I'm Yllia. Pleased to meet you."

And there went that good-ol'-boy grin again as he nodded. "Same," he said. "Actually, I thought I'd run into you a little sooner. There can't be that many things of interest around here. Soldiers, tents, weapons…and more soldiers, tents, and weapons."

"And architecture," Yllia said without thinking. She blushed a touch at his startled look. "I mean, well…the ruins." She reached up and idly played with the end of one of the many tied-off locks that encircled her head, a nervous tick that she'd picked up during hours-long training sessions that left her tense and wired and with no way of expending all of that pent-up energy. "I've never seen ruins like these, so I was just…"

"Taking a closer look?" She nodded, and Alistair grinned. "Well, they're certainly bound to be more entertaining than most everything else here, so I guess I can't blame you."

Some of the tension left her, and she returned his smile. She'd been worried that all of the Wardens were going to be more like Duncan – not that she didn't like Duncan, but he was older than her by quite a bit and very serious about his task. She admired that, but found it rather intimidating at the same time. She couldn't help but wonder just how far Duncan would be willing to go in order to achieve his goals – namely, the final defeat of the darkspawn and the end of the Blight.

But Alistair didn't appear to be like that. He had an easygoing manner that contrasted sharply with the attitudes she'd witnessed around the camp amongst the soldiers, and to her additional relief, he didn't seem to be put off by the fact that she was an elf. She'd caught a couple of sideways glances as she'd walked the camp, and although no one had said anything to her, it had felt as if they were watching her to make sure that she didn't cause any trouble. It made her feel as if she was being placed under a magnifying glass, and she didn't like it.

There was also something rather familiar about him, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

"So," Alistair continued on, unaware of the mental scrutiny he was experiencing from his new companion, "Duncan told me that I was supposed to answer any questions that you have, which makes me think he didn't have much of a chance to tell you anything himself. So – do you? Have questions, I mean?" The words 'overeager puppy' came to mind, and Yllia had to fight to restrain her laughter so that she wouldn't accidentally insult him.

Besides, his eagerness meant that she might actually get some answers out of him. "I probably have more questions than there are words to express them," she said with a smile. "What was all of that about just now?"

"You mean with the mage?" Alistair sighed and shook his head. "The Circle is here at the king's request and the Chantry doesn't like that. They just love letting mages know how unwelcome they are."

Yllia felt that familiar twinge of anxiety again, but Alistair continued on without picking up on her discomfort. "It puts me in a bit of an awkward position – I was once a Templar."

Forget the twinge – she now felt like she had a full block of ice lodged firmly in her stomach, and it must have showed on her face because Alistair suddenly stopped talking. "Oh, bloody… listen, I didn't mean anything by all that, about mages being unwelcome and all. That's not how I feel."

"But you just said you were a Templar," Yllia said uneasily.

"Well, yes – was being the operative word there." Alistair reached up and pushed a hand through his hair. "Actually, I was never fully inducted into the Order. I was supposed to take my vows when Duncan recruited me six months ago. And I don't regret it for a minute. Being a Grey Warden suits me far better than being a Templar ever would have, and I'm not going to condemn someone just because they were born with the ability to cast magic.

Yllia studied him, then relaxed when she saw the sincerity in his eyes. She smiled – still a touch uncertain, but it was still a smile and the sight of it set Alistair at ease as well. "It's all right," she said. "I'll overlook your almost-Templarness as long as you answer the rest of my questions." She made sure to keep her tone light, and when her response was another grin, she knew she'd succeeded.

"Go ahead," he replied with a nod. "Ask me anything."

"What's the Joining ritual?"

"Oo…anything but that." Alistair shook his head. "We're not supposed to give details about the Joining until it's time for it to take place – Grey Warden tradition, and six months isn't enough for me to go against it. You'll find out soon enough; I'm sure Duncan doesn't plan on waiting too long for yours."

Yllia hide her disappointment, although she honestly wasn't surprised that Alistair wouldn't talk about it, given how expertly Duncan had dodged the question earlier. It'd been worth a try, though. "Okay, different question. I've gone around the entire camp, but I haven't seen any other Grey Wardens. Where are they?"

"Down in the valley with the rest of the armies," Alistair replied, motioning in the general direction. "King Cailan's given us the honor of being part of his vanguard – and I think he's actually eager to ride into battle with us." He pressed his lips together for a moment, looking as if he intended to say something more, but held his tongue on whatever it was. "Speaking of the other Grey Wardens, though, I imagine Duncan is probably waiting for you now with the other recruits. Are you ready to go?"

No, not in the least. But Yllia had agreed to this, and she wasn't about to step back from the path that she herself had chosen. If she didn't stay with the Grey Wardens, then it was back to the Circle of Magi and the Tower. She'd walk through Hell itself before allowing herself to be sequestered away in that tower again.

"I'm ready," she said, meeting Alistair's eyes steadily. "Let's go."

Duncan turned to them when they reached the Grey Warden camp, and he nodded. "There you are," he said, a touch of admonishment in his voice as he looked at Alistair. "I was just about to send someone to look for you."

"Sorry," Alistair said hastily. "Yllia and I got to talking – she had some questions." He didn't mention the conversation with the mage that Yllia had walked in on, which made her think that Duncan wasn't aware the Chantry was using his Grey Wardens as messenger boys and that Alistair didn't want Duncan to know about it. On the way to the camp, he'd mentioned that Duncan was doing his best to make sure the Grey Wardens cooperated with everyone and didn't step on anyone's toes, but that the other sides weren't quite as amicable. Simply having King Maric return full rights to the Grey Wardens and permit them back inside Ferelden, it seemed, was not enough to garner trust.

"I trust you answered them, then?" Duncan asked, this time looking at Yllia for confirmation.

"All the ones that he was allowed to," Yllia replied, looking at Alistair with a smile, which he promptly returned.

"Well and good, then." Duncan gave a curt nod and motioned to them to join the other two men who he'd been standing with when they arrived. Yllia did so, glancing at them curiously. They both appeared to be older than she was, and human. One of them was leaning casually against a tree, thumbs hooked into the belt around his waist and a devil-may-care grin on his face. The other stood stoically with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression serious enough that it rivaled Duncan's own. She wasn't sure what to make of them, but she suspected she'd get along better with the one against the tree. The other just seemed too…stiff.

"Since you're just joining us now, Yllia, a quick introduction," Duncan said. He nodded to the other two recruits. "This is Daveth and Jory – they, like you, are Grey Warden recruits, and will be undergoing the Joining with you."

Yllia looked at them and offered them a smile, which Daveth promptly returned and Jory simply nodded to. Yep. She definitely got a better vibe from Daveth.

"So what is it that we have to do?" Jory asked, turning his full attention to Duncan. "You said you'd tell us once she got here."

Duncan nodded once, and then addressed all of them – including Alistair. "There are two tasks that I'm giving to you now, both of which will involve you entering the Korcari Wilds," he said. He held up one finger. "The first task is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood – and it must be fresh."

"Darkspawn blood?" Daveth looked startled.

Duncan nodded. "One for each of you, gathered by your own hands. Once you have obtained your vials, you will bring the blood back here, and we will commence the Joining."

Obtain a vial of fresh blood from a darkspawn – no, Duncan wasn't asking for anything too difficult, now, was he? But he had said that magic was especially effective against the darkspawn, and Yllia took some comfort in that fact. She wasn't a fighter and her only weapon was a staff, but if there was one thing she had confidence in, it was her spells – however limited her repertoire was.

"You said there were two tasks?" Jory asked.

"Yes – the second is retrieval. Hidden within the Korcari Wilds are the ruins of an ancient archive belonging to the Grey Wardens. This archive served as home to several scrolls of great importance – they are ancient treaties belonging to the Wardens of old, promises of support pledged to the Wardens during the Blight." Duncan looked around at them, one at a time. "These treaties must be retrieved and preserved. Find the archive and find the treaties, and bring them back to me. Alistair, you'll be going with them."

Alistair looked slightly surprised, but only briefly – he nodded to acknowledge Duncan's order, and Yllia felt a rush of relief. At least she wouldn't be going out into the Wilds with two complete strangers. She might have only known Alistair for an hour at most, but that was still an hour more than either of the other men.

Duncan held Alistair's gaze for a lengthy moment, and then looked back to the three recruits. "Go, then," he said, his voice quiet and serious. "And may the Maker be with you."