CHAPTER SEVEN

Preparations

Alex's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, the world was a blur of muted colors and half-formed shapes. A throbbing ache resided in his skull, and as he sat up, the events of the Joining ritual came flooding back with a jolt—the scalding pain, the haunting vision of the monstrous dragon surrounded by an endless horde of darkspawn. His chest tightened as he remembered the deaths of Daveth and Ser Jory. Though he hadn't known them well, a pang of guilt twisted in his gut; they had all stood on the same precipice of fate.

He glanced around the open space, the flag in the distance swaying slightly with the wind. Footsteps and hushed murmurs drew his attention. Duncan's weathered face appeared above him, his sharp eyes scrutinizing Alex with a glimmer of relief. Beside him, Alistair's easy smile brought a touch of warmth.

"I was beginning to worry, Alex," Duncan said, extending a calloused hand. "You took longer to wake than the others."

Alex gripped Duncan's hand, feeling the solid, reassuring strength in the older man's grasp. He pulled himself up, wavering slightly as his muscles protested.

"You had us on edge there," Alistair added, clapping a hand on Alex's shoulder. "But hey, only one recruit fell this time. Most of you made it through. I'd call that a success."

"Elissa," Alex said, his voice cracking with urgency. "And Solona, Lynna—are they alright?"

Alistair's eyes softened, and he nodded. "They're fine. Waiting by the Grey Warden tents."

Relief flooded Alex, he had already lost Daveth and Jory, together the recruits had made a formidable team and Alex could not bear the thought of losing more of them, especially Elissa, who had become like a sister to him over the years. the tightness in his chest eased at hearing the news. Duncan stepped forward, holding out a small pendant on a simple chain. The metal gleamed dully, and a tiny, dark red droplet encased within caught the dim light.

"A memento," Duncan said, his voice solemn. "It holds a fragment of the darkspawn blood from your Joining. A mark of your sacrifice and bond to the Grey Wardens."

Alex took it with reverence, the weight of the pendant pressing into his palm as if anchoring him to his new reality. "Thank you, Duncan," he said, slipping the chain around his neck.

As he exited the tent, the cool night air brushed against his skin, chasing away the last vestiges of grogginess. He spotted the familiar figures near the campfire, their voices blending with the distant clamor of soldiers making final preparations for the coming battle.

Solona was animated, gesturing as she explained something to Elissa and Lynna. Her blonde hair glinted in the firelight, and Alex could catch snippets about how different elemental magics could be woven into powerful, combined spells.

Elissa's head turned first, her sharp eyes widening as she spotted him. She shot up and ran to him, her armor clinking softly. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"Alex! I was so worried," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I thought you had died. I couldn't bear to lose more family."

Alex hugged her back, a sense of kinship and shared loss binding them tighter than blood.

Solona came up next, a smirk playing on her lips as she smacked his shoulder. "Welcome back, our fearless leader," she said, the scent of lavender following her words. "Can't have you dying on us when there's work to be done."

Alex chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fire. He turned to Lynna, who stood with her arms crossed and an unreadable expression. But when he extended his arm, she grasped his forearm in a firm shake and gave him a nod.

"You survived," she said in her lilting tone, a hint of amusement softening her sharp features.

For the first time, Alex noted the healthy tan of her skin beneath the intricate face tattoos. Her almond-shaped eyes glimmered in the firelight, accentuating her striking beauty—one that would have caught the eye of any other man not bound by duty.

Alex pulled back and looked at the trio with a grin. "So, did I miss anything interesting while I was napping?"

Solona raised an eyebrow. "Duncan had the older Wardens prepare armor for us," she said. "We're almost ready for the real work."

Elissa's smile faltered slightly, and she glanced at Alex. "I still haven't found Fergus," she admitted, her voice softening with worry. "I was going to look for him tomorrow. Will you come with me?"

Alex met her gaze, understanding the unspoken fear behind her words. He nodded without hesitation. "Of course. We'll find him, Elissa."

The evening sun cast a warm, golden glow over the Grey Warden encampment as Alex and the newly joined Wardens exchanged stories. Alistair approached with a familiar grin; hands casually tucked into his belt.

"Mind if I join the little gathering? I promise not to bore you with tales of templar duties," he teased, drawing chuckles from the group.

Alex, seated cross-legged on the grass, gestured for Alistair to join them. "Only if you promise to tell us something scandalous," he said with a smirk.

Solona, leaning forward with her chin resting on her hand, rolled her eyes playfully. "I bet you have some wild stories, Alistair."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Well, if you're expecting scandal, you'll be sorely disappointed. But I'll listen for now." He settled down next to Lynna, who shifted only slightly to make space, her Almond shaped eyes remaining unreadable but attentive.

Solona, her tone softer now, began, "Life in the Circle wasn't all dreary studies and iron rules, you know. There were... moments. Like when I discovered that this new templar recruit, Cullen, had a crush on me." Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she added, "He couldn't even form a sentence when I spoke to him. All I had to do was smile and bat my eyes at him. I took my pleasure in torturing the poor boy."

Alex chuckled, imagining the flustered templar's red-faced embarrassment. He knew how Solona enjoyed her little games, having been her recent target.

Elissa, who had been listening with an amused smile, turned to Alex. "You've been holding out on us, Alex. We know so little about you. You promised to tell us everything, tell us how you become a mage while being one of the greatest swordsman I've ever fought against."

At this, the air grew still, and the group's eyes shifted to Alex. Solona's playful demeanor melted into genuine curiosity, and she leaned closer, her lavender scent faint in the breeze. Even Lynna, usually reserved, looked at him with expectant eyes, her marked face unreadable but intent.

Alex took a deep breath. If they were to trust each other in the trials to come, they deserved the truth.

"It's a long story, but you'll have it," he began. "I'm not from here—not from Thedas. I come from a different world entirely."

Alistair let out a soft snort. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm not," Alex said, shaking his head. "Where I come from, magic doesn't exist. I wasn't a warrior or even remotely close to what I am now. I was an engineer—a civil engineer with a background in mechanical engineering. I earned two degrees, and that made my family proud while earning me my dream job."

Solona's eyes widened. "Another world, that's impossible."

Lynna was the one who spoke next, her voice calm but probing. "What is an engineer?"

Alex smiled at her curiosity. "An engineer designs, builds, and repair structures—things like buildings, bridges. But I also had experience creating things like tools and machines. Robots, weapons that could change the world—tools that you can only dream of here."

Awe washed over their faces. Alistair's skepticism waned, replaced by a quiet respect.

Elissa, who had been listening with wide eyes, reminded him, "That still doesn't explain how you ended up in Thedas or why you're a mage-warrior now."

Alex chuckled softly. "I was getting to that," he said. The memories came rushing back—the acrid smell of smoke, the heat licking at his skin, and the terrified scream of a child.

"One evening, I was heading home after work when I heard a girl screaming from inside a burning building. I didn't think, I just rushed in to save her." He paused, the ghost of pain flickering in his eyes. "I managed to get her out, but I didn't make it. I died in that fire."

Solona's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion.

"But," Alex continued, "I was given another chance—a reward for that moment of bravery. I woke up here in Thedas, a mage, with a strange knowledge of combat and swordsmanship already in my mind."

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with disbelief and awe.

"And Teyrn Cousland took you in?" Alistair's voice broke the silence, a mixture of wonder and understanding.

Alex nodded. "He heard my story, saw something in me—I don't know what—and welcomed me. It's how I ended up with Elissa's family."

He deliberately left out the part about the Angel, and the spirit of Knowledge, the entity that had taught him the intricacies of magic within the Fade. He wasn't sure they were ready for that.

Solona's eyes met his, and a small smile formed on her lips. "Well, I for one say, it's good to have you with us, Alex."

Lynna nodded, her usually detached expression softening ever so slightly. Elissa placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, a friendly gesture of understanding and shared pain.

"To new beginnings," Alistair said, raising an imaginary cup.

"To new beginnings," Alex echoed, feeling the bond between them strengthen in that moment.

The recruits' stories had intertwined with the warmth of camaraderie and the tang of ale as they shared tales long into the night. The crackling fire had dwindled to embers by the time Lynna finished recounting how she, Tamlen, and Merrill, her spirited Dalish companions, had discovered the mysterious elven mirror deep in their forest and how that fateful curiosity had led to her infection with the taint and Tamlen's disappearance and possible death. Alex had listened with fascination and sympathy as she spoke of the pain and loss that followed, but also the resilience that had brought her here.

After they were done, one by one, the new Grey Wardens had peeled away from the gathering, seeking the quiet refuge of sleep. Alex, however, lingered, catching up to Lynna as she moved toward her tent. The air was cool and still, holding the faint scent of damp earth and wood smoke. She halted when he called her name, half-turning with a raised eyebrow and an air of practiced indifference.

"What is it, Alex?" she asked, her voice measured, almost wary.

Alex hesitated, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "Back in the Korcari Wilds," he began, watching her expression carefully, "Flemeth mentioned something about the All-Father. I've been trying to piece it together, but I thought you might know more."

For a moment, Lynna's sharp, almond-shaped eyes widened, her tan skin flushed subtly in the dim light. Then she looked away, a muscle in her jaw tightening. "It couldn't be what I thought it was," she murmured, almost to herself. Her silence stretched, and Alex felt the weight of something unspoken between them.

"What couldn't be?" he pressed gently.

Lynna met his eyes again, a flicker of conflict shadowing her features. "There are old Dalish tales, legends really," she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "Legends of the All-Father, Elgar'nan, first of the elven gods, born of the sun and the earth, God of Vengeance and Fatherhood. He is the Patriarch of our Gods." She paused, biting her lower lip. "I doubt the old witch meant the same thing. It's probably nothing."

Before Alex could push for more, she turned on her heel and vanished into her tent, the fabric flap rustling shut with finality. He stood there for a moment longer, the sounds of the camp settling around him—low murmurs, the creak of leather, and the occasional clink of armor.

With a sigh, Alex turned and walked back to his own tent. The weight of Flemeth's cryptic words and Lynna's half-explained legends sat heavily on his mind. He lay down and closed his eyes, letting sleep claim him.

When he opened them again, he found himself in the shifting, ethereal realm of the Fade. The camp of Ostagar was mirrored here, twisted by the dream-like nature of the place. Wisps of light and translucent spirits flitted past, drawn by the emotions that seeped through from the waking world—fear, hope, uncertainty.

"Ah, you are here," came a familiar voice, smooth and knowing. Knowledge appeared, the spirit's form taking shape with eyes that glimmered like molten gold, robes that flowed like liquid ink.

"Knowledge. I'm glad you're here," Alex said, a hint of relief coloring his tone. He began walking alongside the spirit on the battlements of the spectral Ostagar, their footsteps soundless against the stone. He recounted Flemeth's cryptic warning about the All-Father.

Knowledge listened intently, nodding with a contemplative hum. "The name Flemeth is ancient. She is known throughout history as enigmatic. Her words often carry truths shrouded in half-lies and riddles. As for the All-Father— Elgar'nan, there are stories, splinters of lore scattered across time. He was the first of the elven gods, born of the sun and the earth. According to elven legend. I will search the depths of the Fade, seek out whispers of this warning, for even here, such knowledge is fragmented."

Alex nodded, absorbing the spirit's words. The Fade around them rippled, pulsing with latent magic, and Knowledge turned to him with a glint of amusement. "But come, before you wake, let us not waste the opportunity. There are spells to be learned, secrets to grasp."

The rest of their conversation became a dance of lessons and insights—new spells unfurling within Alex's mind like the blooming of a rare flower. The world shifted as the horizon brightened, signaling the coming dawn. With a nod of farewell, Knowledge dissipated into the air, and Alex awoke to the sound of morning rousing the camp, his mind teeming with new power and questions that demanded answers.

Alex woke to the crisp morning air of Ostagar, the sounds of soldiers preparing for battle filling the camp with a tense, anticipatory energy. He pushed away the remnants of sleep, the memories of his conversation with Knowledge in the Fade still vivid in his mind. The implications of Flemeth's words and the legends whispered to him haunted his thoughts, but there was no time to dwell on it now. Today, they had to prepare for the day.

He stood, stretching his arms and shaking off the lingering haze of sleep. The dawn's first light seeped through the tent flap, casting a soft golden glow across his belongings. With a deep breath, he began his preparations.

Alex took a moment to run a hand over his new Warden armor, appreciating the craftsmanship and symbolism that came with it. He picked up the padded Grey Warden blue jacket first, its material sturdy yet flexible, ensuring that he would retain mobility in battle. He slipped it on, feeling the snug fit as it hugged his form. Next, he reached for the black chausses, their well-crafted fabric durable enough to withstand the rigors of battle while remaining comfortable for long marches.

Over the jacket, he draped the striped blue and silver tabard, a garment that carried the weight of history. The silver parts shimmered faintly in the morning light, made of overlapping scale armor that caught the eye and offered protection. Each piece was meticulously secured, lending an aura of strength without sacrificing his agility. He adjusted it so that it sat evenly, the scales producing a soft metallic sound as they settled.

He lifted the small silverite breastplate next, its surface polished to a gleaming finish. Embossed prominently at its center was the Grey Warden's iconic symbol: the griffin, wings outstretched and poised as if mid-flight, a symbol of courage and vigilance. Alex ran a thumb over the design, feeling the raised edges before fastening the breastplate securely over his chest.

A brown leather shoulder pauldron adorned his left side, subtly asymmetrical to allow for ease of movement. Attached to it was a small silver griffin, an emblem that signified his new rank and responsibilities. Below the breastplate, silverite faulds hung from a belt that wrapped tightly over the tabard, their segmented plates designed to shield his hips and upper thighs while still allowing for agile maneuvers.

Finally, he placed the padded leather blue hood over his head, letting it rest comfortably around his neck for the moment. It would provide some protection without obscuring his vision in battle. His hands were covered by brown light leather gloves, their surface marked by faint stitching and reinforced padding that would ensure a better grip on his staff and sword. He slid on the matching boots, supple yet sturdy, designed for both comfort and durability.

Fully clad in the Grey Warden armor, Alex took a moment to look at his reflection in a polished metal plate that hung on the tent wall. He hardly recognized himself; gone was the simple engineer from Earth. Before him stood a warrior, a Grey Warden of Thedas, ready to face whatever the darkspawn and fate would throw his way.

With resolve hardening his features, he stepped out into the camp, the weight of his new role settling comfortably on his shoulders. It was time to face the day.

As he stepped outside, the first thing he saw was Elissa. She stood tall and regal in her heavy silverite and steel variant of the Warden armor. Every plate and joint of her suit gleamed with polished intensity, and the blue and silver hues were as vivid as a banner of war. Lynna, their nimble elven rogue, wore a lighter, all-leather version that maintained the signature tabard. The leather provided her with flexibility without compromising on protection, and her expression was as sharp as her blades. Solona, the mage of their group, was wrapped in flowing blue and silver robes that shimmered subtly with every step, arcane symbols embroidered along the hems.

The four Wardens exchanged nods and walked toward Duncan's tent. He met them at the entrance, his face carved with both weariness and resolve. "Good morning," he greeted them, his tone grave but welcoming. "A Darkspawn horde has been spotted deep in the Korcari Wilds. They're moving this way. If they maintain their current pace, they will reach us by nightfall." Duncan's eyes swept over each recruit, lingering a moment longer on Alex. "You have the day to yourselves. If there's any unfinished business, now is the time to see to it. Prepare for battle by nightfall." With that, Duncan turned and made his way toward the king's tent, his figure growing smaller in the distance.

Elissa exhaled sharply, breaking the momentary silence. "I need to find Fergus," she said, her voice tinged with urgency and worry. Barkley, her Mabari war hound, stood beside her, ears perked as if understanding her intent. Alex nodded, falling into step beside her as they navigated the maze of tents and soldiers. The army camp was a symphony of organized chaos, men and women shouting orders, smiths hammering at armor, and mages casting preparatory enchantments.

They stopped near a cluster of Highever soldiers. Familiar faces lit up with recognition, but there was an air of tension when Alex shared the grim news of Arl Howe's betrayal. The soldiers cursed, their expressions a mix of anger and confusion. Whispers of disbelief spread like wildfire, and the mood darkened as they tried to grasp the betrayal. They then Explained to the pair that Fergus had left on a scouting mission yesterday and was yet to return. Elissa gave her thanks and left with Alex and Barkley.

Elissa's silence was profound as they turned back toward the main path, the weight of her thoughts palpable. Alex did not push her for conversation; he knew the storm of emotions raging within her. He, too, felt the unease settle in his chest. Where was Fergus now? Would they see him again before the battle, or ever?

"If only we could have found Fergus, I worry for him, what if he runs into the darkspawn Horde?" Elissa muttered; her voice strained. Barkley, her loyal mabari hound, whined softly, sensing his mistress's disquiet.

Alex's eyes flickered to Elissa, the familiar pang of helplessness tightening in his chest. "Fergus will be fine, don't worry, Elissa. We'll see him soon," he said, the words as much a hope as a promise. She nodded once, but her silence pressed down on them like the heavy air before a storm.

They walked through the rows of tents, soldiers and mercenaries bustling around them, preparing gear, sparring, or simply staring into the distance with haunted eyes. The camp was alive with the undercurrent of anticipation, a collective tension thickening as the morning edged toward afternoon.

Ahead, a commotion caught Alex's attention. Two figures, a young man and woman, stood locked in an argument that crackled with frustration. The man's dark hair and scowl marked him as someone used to conflict; he clutched a two-handed sword that seemed almost too large for his lean frame. The woman beside him, her short black hair tousled and framing a strong, determined face, radiated a fierceness that belied her unarmed appearance.

As Alex and Elissa approached, the pair fell silent, turning guarded eyes their way. The woman shifted subtly, stepping in front of her companion as though to shield him.

"Easy," Alex said, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "We're not here to cause trouble. I'm Alex, and this is Elissa."

The woman's eyes narrowed for a moment before she spoke. "I'm Marian," she said, her voice carrying an accent that all Fereldens shared. She nodded toward the young man. "And this stubborn fool is my little brother, Carver."

Carver shot his sister an annoyed look. "I can speak for myself, Marian."

"Really? Could've fooled me," she snapped back. The tension between them crackled, but there was an undertone of fierce protectiveness in her words.

Alex's brow lifted in mild amusement. "Mind if I ask what's going on?"

Marian crossed her arms, her eyes darting back to Carver before returning to Alex. "He ran off to join the army," she explained tersely. "Left our mother and sister back in Lothering worried sick. He's too young for this, and I'm here to make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Carver's jaw tightened, defiance flashing in his eyes. "I'm not a child, Marian. I can fight. You shouldn't have come after me, what would you do if the soldiers spotted you?" Carver countered, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. "You know what they'd do if they found out what you can do."

Alex chuckled softly, drawing their surprised attention, he could feel the subtle hum of magic radiating off of Marian, and knew what Carver meant immediately. "I wouldn't worry too much about templars right now. The darkspawn are a bigger threat than an unregistered mage. But if anyone does give you trouble, you can come find me or Elissa here, by the Grey Warden tents."

Marian's wary expression shifted, a hint of surprise and gratitude flickering in her dark eyes. "Thanks, ill keep that in mind."

Elissa's lips curved into a small smile. "That was a kind thing to do, offering her safety." she murmured as they moved past the siblings.

Alex shrugged. "We need powerful allies against the darkspawn. I will not lose one simply because a templar decided to get his hunt on and arrest an apostate willing to help before a big fight, her knowing the wardens should keep the templars away for now."

They continued through the camp, passing a cluster of mages and knights. Solona's waist-length blonde hair caught the light as she stood beneath a tree, engaged in an earnest conversation with an older woman whose wise eyes and calming presence could only be Wynne.

Finally, they approached the Grey Warden tents, where Alistair was training outside. He moved through the forms of shadow sparring with an intensity that belied his usual carefree demeanor. His eyes met Alex's, and he paused, a grin breaking across his face. "You two look serious," he called, a touch of humor threading through his voice.

"We ran into some interesting company," Alex replied, exchanging a glance with Elissa. "Oh? Tell me all about it," Alistair said, lowering his sword and approaching with genuine curiosity.

As the sun began to climb higher in the sky, casting warm light over the bustling Grey Warden camp at Ostagar, Alex and Elissa sat beneath a swaying oak, discussing the brief encounter with Marian and Carver Hawke. Alex's eyes glimmered with the memory of meeting the fiery woman and her stubborn brother.

"They have spirit," Elissa remarked, her tone thoughtful. "Especially Marian. You don't see many mages willing to risk themselves out in the open like that."

Alex nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "True, and Carver's got the look of someone who's ready to prove himself—even if it gets him into trouble." He glanced at Alistair, who was performing practice swings a short distance away. The older Warden had been listening intently and gave Alex a nod.

"You did the right thing," Alistair said, pausing mid-swing to grin at Alex. "We need all the allies we can muster, and that includes those who aren't officially on our side yet." He shifted into a defensive stance, a spark of mischief in his eyes. "Speaking of allies, care to test your skills against one?"

Alex's grin widened, and he set his weapons aside for a moment, rolling his shoulders in anticipation. "No magic?" he clarified.

"No magic," Alistair confirmed, raising his Grey Warden sword and Templar shield with a playful smirk. "Besides, I've heard there's not much to learn from fighting shadows."

Elissa chuckled softly as she stood and leaned against the rough bark of the tree. Around them, the camp had begun to notice the upcoming duel. Soldiers—both veterans and Ash Warriors—drifted over, curious eyes sparkling as they gathered. Lynna emerged from her tent, her braided hair catching the light as she watched with arms crossed.

Alex picked up his borrowed elven dagger from Lynna, feeling its familiar weight settle into his left hand. His red steel longsword gleamed in his right. The two men began to circle each other, the dry grass crunching softly under their boots.

Alistair made the first move, lunging forward with his shield raised and executing a series of precise strikes: sword slashes aimed for Alex's midsection, stabs that sought a weakness, and sudden shield bashes to disorient. His boots kicked up small clouds of dust as he moved, each step powerful and measured.

Alex danced out of the way with fluid grace, rolling his shoulders to avoid a cut, sidestepping deftly as Alistair's sword whistled through the air. The spectators' cheers began to swell, their excitement contagious. Veterans called out bets, some shouting encouragements and others groaning at near-misses.

"Come on, Alistair! You're holding back!" Alex taunted, the edge of his lips quirking up as he dodged another attack.

Alistair's eyes narrowed, and he let out a short laugh. "Careful what you wish for," he muttered, switching up his approach. His attacks became more unpredictable, mixing feints and shield jabs that made it difficult for Alex to counter.

For a moment, Alistair seemed to have the upper hand, using his shield as both weapon and defense. Alex was pushed back, forced to parry with his dagger and barely able to slip out of reach with well-timed pivots. The noise around them grew, soldiers cheering with raised fists.

Seeing an opening, Alex dropped into a low roll, emerging on one knee behind Alistair's left side. Before the older Warden could fully turn, Alex's leg swept out, catching Alistair's ankle and sending him off-balance. Alistair stumbled, his shield arm momentarily lifted.

Seizing the moment, Alex twisted his dagger in a controlled flourish and hooked it inside Alistair's shield. With a swift pull, the shield clattered to the ground, leaving Alistair with only his sword. The crowd erupted with laughter and cheers at the sudden turn.

"Not bad," Alistair said, eyes glinting as he readjusted his stance.

Alex's smile turned serious. He pressed the advantage, launching into a series of dual-weapon strikes. His longsword arced in controlled power while the dagger followed with nimble jabs. Alistair deflected a few blows and managed a well-timed thrust, but Alex spun away at the last moment, sidestepping and pressing his longsword gently against Alistair's throat.

A moment of stunned silence fell over the spectators before breaking into a chorus of cheers and applause. Alex lowered his blade, extending a hand to Alistair, who took it with a rueful grin.

"Well fought, Alex," Alistair said, catching his breath.

"I guess that's one for me," Alex replied, shaking Alistair's hand firmly. As they stepped back from the makeshift ring, Alex's eyes drifted to the faces in the crowd. He couldn't help but chuckle, realizing that some soldiers were now exchanging coins, the winners pocketing their gains with broad smiles.

With a nod to Elissa, who gave him an approving thumbs up, Alex turned and made his way back toward his tent, his heart still pounding with adrenaline and a sense of camaraderie.

The battle ahead would be brutal, but moments like these reminded him why they fought—and who they fought for.