"You cannot deny that she conspired to free a blood mage, dwarf."

"Perhaps, not," Varric said, sagely. "But she didn't know. The Hero took Jowan at his word because she trusted him. All she wanted was to see her friend happy."

"She should not have helped to begin with! Personal loyalty does not excuse her actions. There is a reason mages are kept within the Circles."

"The war you now face is because the Circles weren't working, Seeker. Tell me, would you just sit on your thumbs while the system catastrophically fell apart around your ears?"

"Mages are not meant to hold their own leashes."

"You can't have met many good mages."

Cassandra's eyes flashed with warning. "I do not see what the Hero of Ferelden has to do with the Champion of Kirkwall."

Varric faux gasped. "You don't know? They're cousins, of course!"

"Continue, dwarf. Do not leave anything out."


In a haze, Solona followed Duncan to the apprentice quarters.

"If there is anything you wish to take with you, grab it now. I think finding lodging across the lake would be best."

She did as bid, scooping up her staff. The silver ring she turned over in her hands. The embossed Circle insignia gleamed. Wear them proudly, Irving had said. She had earned them.

The ring hit the bedspread with an inaudible thump. Greagoir was right. What part of her actions in the last twenty or so hours had proven her worthy of entry into the legendary Grey Wardens?

Conspiring to lead her best friend into a trap? Allowing Jowan to destroy his phylactery?

Unleashing a blood mage?

"If you are ready?" inquired Duncan.

Solona grabbed a journal as well, and silently followed him out of the tower. First time outside the stone walls she grew up in, and she couldn't even appreciate the view. The night sky was black. The inky waters of Lake Calenhad reflected that darkness.

But Duncan navigated the rocky path to the dock, where a templar awaited. He helped her into the little rowboat, and Solona had a death grip upon the edge as it rocked.

The warrior let out a soft chuckle. If Solona wasn't too busy battling queasiness, she'd be angry he was laughing at her misfortune.

"I imagine you don't leave very often, do you?"

"Apprentices aren't allowed to leave at all," she muttered. "Even the senior mages need permission. Usually, it requires outside orders."

An awkward silence fell upon the rowboat for the remainder of the journey to shore. Duncan guided her with a hand on the elbow up the slight incline to the Spoiled Princess. The inn's owner didn't bat an eye at the man's request for a single room with two beds. Solona was unbothered by the arrangement. The apprentice quarters slept all apprentices. Transparency above all else, in the Circle. No places for the mages to practice blood magic in secret, supposedly.

Dinner was a simple fare, a grey but hearty stew. Solona dragged her spoon through the liquid, occasionally lifting a bite to her mouth.

"Can you tell me more about the Grey Wardens and darkspawn?" she asked. The time to wallow in pity was past. What was done couldn't be undone. All she could do was move forward and hope to live up to Duncan's expectations.

"Certainly. I am intimately familiar with these subjects, after all."

Solona gave him a weak smile, appreciative of the effort to lift her black mood.

"What, exactly, do Grey Wardens do?"

"Our duty is to battle darkspawn wherever they appear. We are elves, human and dwarves united by this common purpose."

"And mages?" she asked. "I've heard you have few in your ranks."

"That is true," replied Duncan, "but not because we fear mages. On the contrary, I wish we had more. I asked King Cailan's permission to come and seek a greater commitment from the Circle. When he sent out the call to arms, the Circle only sent seven mages to Ostagar."

That probably explained why Leorah got promoted to senior enchanter. The warrior may have been less than impressed with the number, but not counting the first enchanter, seven mages equaled half of their senior level mages.

"I sometimes wonder if the Chantry's many laws regarding magic are necessary. Darkspawn are a greater threat than blood mages, even abominations."

"That's not a popular opinion to have," she pointed out. What did the Chantry care if darkspawn consumed the world? They would blame the mages, regardless. Magic was responsible for all evil, apparently.

Duncan's expression was regretful. "It takes decades for the world to recover from a Blight. I wish the Chantry could see that. We must stop at nothing to defeat the darkspawn."

"How many mages could you possibly need?"

"I hope to place a mage or two with every contingent. I cannot do with just seven. Mages will make all the difference in this battle. The darkspawn have their own magic, and our resources must exceed theirs."

Solona's spoon slipped from slack fingers, bouncing off the rim of her bowl with a loud clatter. "Darkspawn can use magic?"

"Indeed." Duncan's face was solemn. "They are called Emissaries. Their use of blood magic makes them particularly dangerous enemies."

"Blood magic is evil." Her eyes darkened, remembering the events only an hour before.

"There have been mages within the Grey Wardens who have needed to resort to blood magic to deal with the darkspawn." His delivery was carefully neutral. Solona couldn't discern if the warrior agreed with the practice of blood magic. "It is something to consider, certainly."

Solona pushed away from the table. "I will never use blood magic. It causes nothing but suffering."

Petulantly, she bundled herself into her bed, purposefully lying with her back towards the opposite bed intended for Duncan. The man said nothing when he came in.

She stared at the wall for a long length, worrying over what the future now held in store for her. As least the Grey Wardens seemed not to give a nug's ass about race. Solona possessed an ability they desperately needed, so much so that Duncan was willing to risk the Chantry's wrath by recruiting directly into his own ranks.

Exhausted, sleep finally claimed her.


25 Haring, 9:30

They travelled south through the Hinterlands to the ruin of Ostagar, on the edges of the Korcari Wilds. The journey took the better part of a week. Solona was grateful that the darkspawn had chosen to attack during Guardian. It was the tail end of Fereldan's summer, so it wasn't scorching hot. Another month or two and her mage's robes would provide little protection against bitter cold winds and snow.

Duncan never pushed her for conversation or company. When her thoughts were too much he let her be, gazing into the campfire as if the flames held all her answers.

She tried to psych herself up as they drew closer to Ostagar. Despite how it came to be, Solona had the opportunity of a lifetime. The very opportunity she had secretly wished for, trapped in the Circle Tower. She could wield her magic openly, without fear of templars. And she could use it with a purpose beyond proof that she had learned the spell.

Ostagar was a towering fortress, straddling a narrow pass between the hills.

As they crossed the long stone bridge, Solona was duly impressed. According to Duncan, the Tevinter Imperium had built Ostagar long ago to prevent the Wilders from invading the northern lowlands. He thought it was fitting that the king's army was to make its stand here, albeit it against a much different foe.

"The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens in Ferelden at the moment, but all of us are here. The Blight must be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall," divulged Duncan.

"Why are there only a few Wardens?"

"A question for another time. It appears the king awaits us."

True enough, just through the massive stone archway that marked the end of the Imperial Highway, stood a man in resplendent golden armor.

"Ho there, Duncan!" greeted the king, grasping forearms with said man.

"King Cailan, I didn't expect—"

"A royal welcome? I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!" The king was rather jovial for a man faced with an army of darkspawn.

"Not if I could help it, your Majesty," said Duncan seriously.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious! The other Wardens tell me you've found a promising recruit. I take it this is she?"

Solona was startled. Mostly by the king's enthusiastic interest in her. Though she wondered when Duncan found the time to send word that she was coming.

"Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty."

King Cailan moved directly in front of her. Solona was surprised to find that the monarch was only an inch or two taller than her.

"No need to be so formal, Duncan. We'll be shedding blood together, after all. Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?"

"I am Solona, your Majesty," she answered.

"Pleased to meet you!" He actually sounded genuinely pleased. "The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them."

Was this what life was like, being outside the Circle? No two people she'd meet sharing the same opinion? It was refreshing.

"I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?"

"I'm only recently out of my apprenticehood," she clarified, figuring that to everyone outside the Circle, a mage was a mage.

"Your abilities are still above those of other men," the king praised. Solona blinked away the wetness in her eyes. She was not going to cry because one man recognized the good mages could do. "That the Grey Wardens have recruited you says much. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks."

"I hope my skills are enough."

King Cailan turned back to Duncan. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies."

"Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week."

"Ha!" the monarch scoffed. "Eamon just wants in on the glory. We've won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different."

Solona snuck a glance at Duncan. The man's face was passive. "I didn't realize things were going so well."

"I'm not even sure this is a real Blight," he said glibly. "There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we've seen no sign of an archdemon."

"Disappointed, your Majesty?" Duncan asked wryly.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But, I suppose this will have to do. I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens!"

Solona crossed her forearms and bowed slightly.

"A warrior's greeting. Not chosen on purpose, I suspect."

"Should I not have bowed?"

"Women generally curtsey. But I imagine the Circle doesn't teach its apprentices court etiquette."

"He sounded quite confident. Is the war really going as well as the king claimed?" She wouldn't be returned to the Circle if they discovered they had no need of her, would she?

"What the king said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn, here."

"Yet, you don't sound very reassured."

The Grey Warden commander gestured towards the camp. "Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now they look to outnumber us. I know there is an archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling."

Solona furrowed her brow, puzzled. "Why not? He seems to regard the Grey Wardens highly."

"Yet not enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais. He believes our legend alone makes him invulnerable. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference."

She couldn't blame the king for not wanting help from Orlais. Chances were, soon as the Blight was defeated, the Chevaliers would turn their blades on Ferelden.

"To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay."

Solona's mouth suddenly felt like she swallowed sand. "What do you mean? What ritual?"

"Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden." Duncan explained. "The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon."

"Why is the ritual so secret? Is it like the Harrowing?"

"The Joining is dangerous. I cannot speak more of it except to say that you will learn all in good time. Until then, you must trust that what is done is necessary. It is an ordeal. I am sorry you must endure another so soon."

The Harrowing was reputed to be dangerous. Solona had apparently exceeded any expectations put upon her, so hopefully, the Joining wouldn't prove too much for her to handle. To the Maker's ears, she prayed.

"Am I the only recruit you have?"

"No," Duncan denied. "There are two other recruits here already. They have been waiting for us to arrive."

"You said there were preparations? What do you need me to do?"

"Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being."

Solona thought that was a given. She had nowhere to go, and if she left before undergoing the ritual, she'd simply be an apostate.

"There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits. Until then, I have business I must attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need to."

Solona appreciated that he didn't coddle her. A consequence of growing up in the Circle, she had learned to be self-dependent early on. The area Duncan had indicated appeared to house the higher ups; the king, the teyrn, the Grey Wardens. She'd bet her staff the army's seven mages, and accompanying templars, were stationed across the bridge as well.

But the downside of never being able to leave the tower meant Solona was frankly overwhelmed.

She took her time crossing the bridge. The railing, where it existed, hardly came up to her knees. Several chunks had been gouged out, forcing the mage to zig zag as she crossed.

"You new here?" the soldier stationed at the base of a statue asked. "This place hasn't seen such bustle in centuries, I'll wager. Need a hand getting anywhere."

"What can you tell me about Ostagar?"

"Used to be a fortress, long time ago, so I understand. Back in the days when the Wilders used to invade the lowlands. You were just on the eastern side of the ruin. The Tower of Ishal is there, but Teyrn Loghain's closed it off until the battle. This side is the king's camp. We got the Grey Wardens here, the Circle of Magi, the Chantry . . . you can't swing a dead cat without hitting somebody important."

"Do I hear dogs barking?"

"This is Ferelden, isn't it?" the man cracked a joke. "The king has his kennels on the west side of camp. Stinks from all the hounds."

So that was the wet, musky smell.

"They aren't cute puppies, though—some of these dogs bite the darkspawn and get too much of that blood in them. . . It's like poison. Slow, painful death. Terrible."

"Could you tell me where I could find the king?"

"Probably in his tent," was her answer. "He and Teyrn Loghain are on the southwest side of the camp. "The king likes to spend time with his soldiers, though, sometimes even without his bodyguards. Drives Teyrn Loghain wild, that does."

"Last ones, where can I find a Grey Warden named Alistair and Duncan's tent?"

"I think your boy was sent with a message to the mages. They're located to the north. The commander's tent is straight ahead, by the fire pit. It's past the royal encampment. The rest of your fellows are in the valley with the army."

Solona thanked the soldier profusely, and set to exploring the camp. He let her go with a final piece of advice, the location of the quartermaster. Just as he said, there was a group of mages in the midst of casting a spell so strong she could see the mana in the air. The templars posted outside glared at anyone that came within ten feet.

She tried to ask a man if he was Alistair but received a clipped no as he rushed by.

"Solona, is that you, child?" The blonde mage turned, searching for whoever called her name. She spotted a familiar figure leaning against a tree. "What do we have here? I heard the new Grey Warden recruit was from the Circle. I should have known they'd select you."

It hadn't seemed like much of a selection. Certainly, Duncan had been interested in her, but it was a stroke of fortune that the man had come upon Irving and Greagoir arguing over what to do with her.

"I'm glad to see a familiar face, Senior Enchanter Wynne." The elderly mage wasn't her favorite of people, but the familiarity was welcome, indeed. Despite the fact that she was standing on solid ground, it didn't feel like it. So many changes happening all too quickly. Solona would almost welcome one of Wynne's long winded lectures.

"Congratulations on your Harrowing, dear," said the white-haired mage. "Marvelous work, the Fade is a dangerous place."

More so than it was supposed to be. "Yes, I know all about that."

Wynne chuckled. "You know all there is to know already, do you?"

Solona blinked, confused. How did admitting her experience with the Fade was dangerous come across as all-knowing?

"Irving said as much about you," the elderly mage continued. "Remarkable self-confidence."

She shrugged. She certainly wasn't going to complain if she gave off an aura that she was confident.

"So, a Grey Warden . . ." Wynne trailed off, reminiscent. "Fighting alongside the king. Not too shabby for someone just out of apprenticeship."

Solona honestly didn't know how to respond, but the other woman seemed to be expecting a response. Considering the circumstances, Solona hoped that she wouldn't disappoint anyone, and she said as much to Wynne.

"Hmph, child. You have been taught well. Use what you know, and have faith in yourself. Mages have always been pivotal in the fight against the darkspawn. Perhaps you will be the one to turn the tide this time."

The blonde mage walked away from that conversation with a sudden weight upon her shoulders. Knowledge wasn't the issue. Solona could recite magical theory and history until she was blue in the face. Skill was another matter. Her repertoire of spells was rather small. Control came hard to her. Simply learning a spell took her more effort than it had for other apprentices.

Cullen had often accused her of being stubborn. Solona thought it more a matter of pride. She couldn't stand being the last one to perform a spell. So, she spent the extra time her fellow apprentices used for secret trysts practicing relentlessly.

She knew a lot of spells she could cast theoretically, but she wouldn't risk it without practicing first.

Solona found one of the Tranquil, Daveth-one of the other two recruits-, and the quartermaster in short order. A quick chat with the pickpocket told her that she would probably be heading out into the heart of the Wilds for the mysterious Joining, so she made certain to purchase a backpack off the quartermaster and stocked it with the supplies she had crammed into her robe's pockets.

Her opinion of the man didn't improve when he mentioned a casual bet with the second apprentice about "what she'd be." For all they guessed, they apparently expected a human male, probably wielding a greatsword as tall as she.

Hackles raised and pride threatened, Solona excused herself from the conversation quickly, jogging up the ramp. She followed the sound of raised voices up another ramp. A mage was arguing with a man he identified to be a Grey Warden.

"What is it now? Haven't the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

She stepped forward, knowing the Warden in question must be the Alistair she was searching for, and was struck by how similar he was in appearance to Cullen. His hair was darker but held highlights of blond. It was kept very short as well, except for the part in front. It was slightly longer and stuck up adorably. Alistair even had the same sturdy build as Cullen and the slightest hint of scruff.

Staring at him was like déjà vu. Until he opened his mouth.

"I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage," Alistair sassed. "She desires your presence."

"What her Reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens—by the king's orders I might add!

Solona cocked a brow, betting the mage wouldn't dare say that within earshot of the Revered Mother herself. It was easy to see that the mage was trying to use the king as an excuse, but seeing as Alistair was a Grey Warden and that there was absolutely nothing the mage could possibly be doing up here, it didn't go over well.

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" Alistair asked glibly.

"Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!"

Solona shook her head at the mage's foolishness. She was all for a little less Chantry oversight, but yelling at the messenger boy served no purpose. Not to mention, Alistair wasn't even a templar.

"Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message."

"Your glibness does you no credit."

"Here I thought we were getting along so well," drawled Alistair. "I was even going to name one of my children after you . . . the grumpy one."

Solona tried and failed to disguise her laugh as a cough.

"Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!" The last part was hurled at her as the man tore past, but Solona paid the grumpy mage no mind.

"You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

Her heart skipped a beat when warm brown eyes turned on her, and she spoke without thinking. "I know exactly what you mean."

Alistair looked shocked briefly, causing Solona concern over if her words made sense, and then his whole face light up boyishly.

"It's like a party: we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. That would give the darkspawn something to think about."

The mage couldn't help but laugh at the image his words conjured; a group of darkspawn halting their charge because they didn't know what to do with an enemy that chose to recite the Chant of Light over taking up arms.

Alistair's brows furrowed as he finally took the time to examine the woman standing before him. "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?"

"Would that make your day any worse?" She asked, lips curling upwards at the end.

"Hardly, I just like to know my chances of being turned into a toad at any given moment."

Solona wiggled her fingers at him. "Nothing. Guess you're safe around me."

She was quickly coming to enjoy the sight of this man laughing.

"Wait, I do know who you are. You're Duncan's new recruit, from the Circle of Magi." She mock-curtseyed. "I should have recognized you right away. I apologize."

"That's all right. No offense taken."

"Good. You didn't exactly catch me at my finest with the mage there. Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden, though I guess you knew that. As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

She offered a hand and he shook it. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Solona."

"Right, that was the name. "You know. . . it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

"Probably because we're too smart for you." Solona softened the blow with a cheeky grin.

"True. But if you're here, what does that make you?"

She was delighted that Alistair played along. "Just one of the boys?"

"Sad, isn't it? So, I'm curious: Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?"

Solona raised a brow, sarcastically. "I'm a Circle mage that never left the tower before a week ago."

Alistair flushed, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I'll take that as a no. When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was. I can't say I'm looking forward to encountering another. Anyhow, whenever you're ready let's head back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started."

"I'm glad I met you. I look forward to traveling with you when this war business is done with." She had to say that before the Warden's version of the Harrowing was forced upon her. Alistair would never understand how much comfort his casual attitude gave her—nor would she tell him—though it helped that he reminded her of Cullen.

"You do? That's a switch. If you have any questions let me know, otherwise lead on."

Solona leaned forward on her toes eagerly. She always had questions. Alistair would come to regret that invitation shortly. "Tell me a little bit about yourself? I'd like to get to know you better if we'll be fighting side by side."

"You first," he returned. "Did you want to become a Grey Warden?"

The grin slipped off her face. Solona had been so comfortable around him that she forgot all about the memories of the tower. How was she supposed to answer? Alistair had no idea he had just stepped on what was tantamount to a landmine for his new charge. She had been curious to hear of a Grey Warden's arrival to the Circle of Magi and hadn't wasted the opportunity to pester Duncan with questions. However, joining the order would only be a means to an end, in her mind. A way beyond the tower's walls. Freedom to use her magic in whatever manner she saw fit. But she didn't actually want to fight a war against the darkspawn.

"Yes, I supposed I did," she answered at length.

"I was conscripted. Not that I didn't want to join. I was training as a templar for the Chantry before Duncan recruited me. That was about six months ago."

Solona felt her mouth drop. "A templar?" she managed. What were the odds that she would meet two men in life that shared similar pleasing features and the same profession?

Alistair spread his hands out before him. "I know you are a mage, but it wasn't my idea. I was raised in the Chantry. They decided my fate a long time ago."

She felt guilty that he was rambling in an effort to put her at ease. She wasn't afraid to be around him. The opposite in fact. She was just surprised by how alike he was to Cullen.

"Duncan saw I wasn't happy and figured my training against mages could double for fighting darkspawn. Now, here I stand, a proud Grey Warden. The Grand Cleric would never have let me go if Duncan hadn't forced the issue. I'll always be grateful to him."

"You speak fondly of Duncan."

He cast his eyes downward. "I spent years in that Chantry, hopelessly resigned to my fate. Duncan was the first person who cared what I wanted. He risked a lot of trouble with the Grand Cleric to help me."

A bitter feeling rose in the back of her throat. Solona thought she had that in the people she had surrounded herself with in the Circle. A close friend in Jowan, who asked for her to risk everything for him at the cost of herself. Trust in Irving, to guide her in become a better person, not just a stronger mage. But the First Enchanter had leapt upon the chance to knock the Chantry and its templars down a peg. Even Greagoir. She expected the Knight-Commander to behave with a more level head and not immediately call for her to be dealt with at the first sign of things gone wrong.

True, Duncan had saved her from a worse fate, but Solona would have liked the offer to come out of genuine desire instead of pity.

"Does he make a habit of collecting unwanted strays?" Herself, Alistair, even Daveth, rescued from unfortunate situations.

"Or maybe he just happens to be a good man." His voice was hard.

Solona winced. It hadn't been her intention to offend him. Sometimes her mouth spoke words before her brain had finished processing them.

"You didn't want to join the Chantry?" She asked, wanting to change the conversation.

"It just . . . wasn't for me. I believe in the Maker well enough, but I never wanted to devote my life to the Chantry."

Perhaps it was time to leave the discussion of the Chantry behind altogether. "There's still a lot I don't know about the Grey Wardens."

"So I'd imagine," chuckled Alistair. "What would you like to know?"

"What makes you all so special?"

"I don't know that I'd use the word special. Different might be more accurate. The Grey Wardens are warriors without equal. Darkspawn threatened to destroy the word four times over. Each time, the Grey Wardens led mankind to victory. Nobody knows more about darkspawn, and nobody's better equipped to deal with them. You'll see, trust me."

"So . . . they're knights? Heroes?" Solona asked, confused.

"I . . . don't know if I'd go that far. Duncan says the Grey Wardens do whatever is necessary to protect mankind from the darkspawn. That means some pretty extreme things. Whatever it takes to bring victory."

She recalled that Duncan had said as much earlier when she asked his opinion on blood magic. So, the Grey Wardens of old may not have been heroes in shiny golden armor, but they were still heroes for ending the Blight.

"There's so much I don't know about the Grey Wardens," she commented to herself. The history books contained only short paragraphs, summations of which lands were devastated and notable battles throughout each Blight. But details on the Wardens themselves were limited. She didn't know where to start her line of questioning.

"Surely you've heard of Weisshaupt? The great aerie carved into the white cliffs far off in the Anderfels? That's where the Grey Wardens once kept their griffons. The griffons died out, however, and our numbers have dwindled since the last Blight. There's only a handful left in Ferelden. A few more in other nations."

"There are more of us here, yes?"

"The others are camped with the king's soldiers in the valley. The king's given us a position of honor at the vanguard, despite our small numbers," he answered. His lighthearted lilt didn't quite cover the pride he clearly felt. "I think the king is actually excited to ride into battle with us. Maybe he thinks that's what his father would have done."

"Do they have the right to recruit anyone?" Already, she counted an ex-templar, a mage, and a petty thief amongst their number.

"King Maric, Cailan's father, reaffirmed the power Grey Wardens were given during the Blights. In practice, we can't conscript too often without hurting our cause. We were exiled from Ferelden once . . . best not to let that happen again."

"What exactly is a Blight? Where do they come from?"

"You want the Chantry's version or the truth?" Alistair quipped, making her grin.

"I already know the Chantry's tale. Give me the truth."

"The truth is we don't really know." He shrugged offhandedly. "They come up from the ground . . . and that's as far as they've gotten."

Solona shook her head ruefully. She would have expected the order dedicated to ridding the world of darkspawn would know how the Blights actually began.

"We may not know where the Blights came from, but the Grey Wardens know how to combat them. The first Blight nearly wiped us out. When defeated, the darkspawn flee back underground and seek out another Old God to taint, thus bringing another Blight."

"Will there ever be an end to the Blights?"

Here, Alistair hesitated. "The Chantry doesn't tell anyone that the Maker trapped seven Old Gods."

Her initial response was relief. There was a comfort in knowing that Thedas wouldn't be perpetually plagued by the threat of darkspawn. Then came the disgust that the Chantry was allowing everyone to live in fear magic for its role in the Blights when the world had already faced more than half of them. If this war was truly a Blight, only two more archdemons would remain.

Speaking of, "Where is the archdemon for this Blight? Duncan mentioned that it hadn't been seen yet?"

"That's right. We haven't seen it yet. People are beginning to think this is just an unusually large darkspawn raid without an archdemon to unify them. But seriously . . . the archdemon could be in the Wilds, or underground. It could be hiding. Just because it hasn't shown itself doesn't mean it isn't out there."

"Why not kill the darkspawn when they're underground?" It sounded reasonable to Solona. If there weren't any darkspawn for the archdemon to lead, there wouldn't really be any Blights.

"They've controlled the Deep Roads ever since they defeated the dwarven kingdoms. Even if we invaded, we can only chase them so far," Alistair explained.

"Will I know an archdemon when I see it?"

"Oh definitely. They may not be Old Gods, but the archdemons are definitely dragons. Big ones. Intelligent, even. The Tevinter empire had big statues of them. Each dragon had a name and a place in the cosmos . . . it's all very intricate."

"Why are some people so skeptical?"

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Apparently, the Grey Wardens killed so many darkspawn by the end of the last Blight, people decided they were gone for good."

She understood his derision, for all that her history books led her to believe the very same, until Duncan corrected her. The Fourth Blight was in the Exalted Age four centuries ago. That was more than enough time for the darkspawn numbers to amass once more, especially since it was unknown where underground they came from. By now, there were probably thousands, tens of thousands even.

"How do the Grey Wardens end a Blight?"

"We chop of the snake's head. It's the only way."

"Only the archdemon needs to die?" she clarified.

"According to texts, the most famous Grey Warden leader, Garahel, killed the archdemon Andorhal in personal combat at the Battle of Ayesleigh to end the last Blight. Without the archdemon to command them, the darkspawn flee back underground."

Which explained why Duncan was positive this was a Blight. The sheer size of the horde was indication that something intelligent, the archdemon, was commanding them. Otherwise, they'd still be underground in search of it. But why wouldn't he just tell the king that?

"How did we know about this Blight?"

"The Grey Wardens keep watch. We . . ." Alistair worried his lip, "feel the darkspawn when they come. You'll understand after the Joining, if you . . . well, you'll understand. Not to mention people start to notice when darkspawn pour out of the Wilds and taint everything around them. Just a guess."

Solona appreciated that he tried to lighten the mood, but she wouldn't let his slip go unnoticed. "What can you tell me about this Joining?"

"Honestly, nothing," he hastily backtracked. "Try not to worry about it. It will . . . just distract you."

She tried another tactic. Alistair had no problem enthusing Duncan's virtues. If she kept him talking, he might accidentally reveal something else.

"Tell me about Duncan."

"Duncan is the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden . . . which he would say doesn't mean much, as there aren't many of us here. Yet. Beyond that, he's a good man. A good judge of character. I owe him a lot.

"What about you?" Alistair turned the question on her. "What do you think of him?"

"He's kind but firm. I owe him as well."

"Fair enough," Alistair accepted. "He's done the best he can with what little he has . . . and that includes me, I guess."

"Duncan claimed the Joining ritual would be an ordeal similar to my Harrowing."

"I wish I could tell you more," Alistair said, apologetic. "Maybe ask me again after Duncan speaks to you about it. Do you want to ask me about something else?"

"The upcoming battle? Do you believe we will win this one as well?" Solona was truly terrified at the idea of going into battle so soon. Never once laid eyes on a darkspawn, yet tomorrow she would be expected to wield her magic against them. Would her spells even be sufficient? Were the darkspawn affected by primal magic?

"The one tomorrow? I'll tell you, it's Teyrn Loghain we should be looking to win it, not the king. Cailan just wants his place in history. The teyrn is planning the strategy. Errrr, that's my opinion, anyway. I guess I should be thankful the king favors us Grey Wardens, but I know who's keeping the lid on the pot."

"How much will I be participating?"

"You know, that's a good question." Solona barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She didn't want to seem like she was mocking him, but it was a rather serious matter. "The other Grey Wardens are riding into battle with the king. I don't know if you'll be with them."

"What are the chances of success?"

"I'm sure Teyrn Loghain has the battle planned to the last detail," he assured her. "Still . . . no Blight has ever been defeated with so little cost."

It was a horrible notion to consider. "And if we fail?"

"If we don't break the horde here, Duncan says it will spread until it engulfs all of Ferelden. Then it will take an alliance of nations to fight it."

Her history lessons had already told how well that would work out. That is to say, not well. Even when faced with a Blight, each nation only focused on its own borders.

"Which would be bad," Alistair said, pushing some cheer into his voice. "Neither the king nor the teyrn really seems to believe this is a real Blight, however. Do you want to ask me about something else?"

Solona smiled. He had been incredibly patient with her. "No, I have no more questions."

"Then let's get a move on, shall we?"

Solona and Alistair stood about awkwardly, each apparently expecting the other to take the lead. She acquiesced when Alistair told her it would be a good way for her to learn to navigate the camp.

The mage took that as permission to keep exploring, trusting that he would tell her when it was expected they return to Duncan.

There was a second ramp on the other side of the quartermaster's corner, which she learned led to the makeshift med camp. Solona raked her eyes over the dozens of cots, occupied by writhing men. Chantry initiates flitted from cot to cot, whispering prayers and trying to ease the soldiers' pain. Her eyes lingered on one, where a red headed woman sat. The warrior, dressed in the armor of a king's soldier, gripped the bedridden man's hand tightly in one of her own. Her other hand caressed his face. Solona moved on, not wanting to intrude on a private moment.

She wished she was better at healing magic. As it was, she could heal cuts and bruises, neither of which would be very helpful on the battlefield. She had often been told by senior enchanters that she had the aptitude for a spirit healer. Wynne in particular was very vocal about the honor that came with the school of advanced healing magic, and equally disappointed when Solona chose to nurture her affinity for elemental spells. The primal forces of nature came easier to her, second only to the spirit and entropy schools.

Nonetheless, Solona had been thankful that a spirit never approached her. Forging a connection with a Fade spirit meant higher templar scrutiny.

One soldier sat up as she passed by, claiming that the darkspawn was coming and they needed to abandon Ostagar.

"There are Grey Wardens here, you know." Solona winked at Alistair.

"You may not want to remain here long, Warden," said the nurse kneeling at the soldier's bedside. "Most of these men have been Tainted by the darkspawn blood."

"I saw them. The Grey Wardens will die! The king will die! We'll all die!" the man raved.

"I apologize, Warden. He's been like this ever since they found him in the Wilds."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Aside from his wounds, we're not sure. His blood is untainted. He's just . . . terrified."

Solona couldn't blame him. She had never seen a darkspawn and here she was, about to join an order dedicated to destroying them.

"You can feel it, can't you? They taint the land, turn it black and sick. You can feel it inside! They'll come out of that forest and spread! Like caterpillars covering a tree, they'll swallow us whole!"

The nurse pushed on his shoulder to force the man to recline. Alistair tugged on her elbow, leading her away from the increasingly distressed man.

"Will that happen to me?"

"No," Alistair said, confidently. "That man didn't bear any Taint." That wasn't what Solona had wanted to hear. Almost as if he had read her thoughts, "Besides, Duncan wouldn't have recruited you if believed you'd faint like a damsel at the first encounter with darkspawn."

That drew a laugh from her.

"Alistair? Is it time to return to Duncan?"

The duo turned towards the center of the clearing, where a Chantry priest was surrounded by a semicircle of praying men.

Alistair stepped forward. "Ah, Ser Jory. We're just undergoing the last of the preparations now. This is Solona, our last recruit."

She inclined her head, taking note of the wary way in which he looked more at the oaken branch over her shoulder than her face.

"I hail from Redcliffe, where I served as a knight under the command of Arl Eamon. I was not aware they permitted women to join the Grey Wardens. None of those I've seen thus far have been."

His elitist attitude rubbed her the wrong way. Was she supposed to be impressed that he served an arl? And for that matter, why wouldn't women be able to join the Grey Wardens? Women served as templars, proof that the fairer gender was capable of being warriors.

"Perhaps they saved the best for last." Solona felt her response was justified when Alistair failed to hide his snort.

"You must have impressed Duncan, and that's enough for me." There was a slight flush to Jory's face, but she had to commend him for maintaining his composure. "I hope we're both lucky enough to eventually join the Wardens. Is it not thrilling to be given that chance?"

Solona shifted a little closer to Alistair. Jory talked as if they had been given the opportunity of a lifetime. A week ago, she might have agreed, because joining the Grey Wardens would have first and foremost meant freedom from the tower.

But she had been forced to face reality. Duncan had spoken of his order at great length during their travel south. One didn't join the Grey Wardens in search of glory. They had a singular purpose. They cared for nothing more than the slaughter of darkspawn and protecting innocents from the devastation that was a Blight. All the heroes in the stories he relayed had been named such after they died for their cause.

She wasn't trying to diminish the Grey Wardens by any means. They were a respectable group of men, elves, and dwarves, if Duncan was to be believed, and they tirelessly fought the battle most were all too willing to forget about as soon as a Blight ended. But it was not an order for glory seekers.

Still, Solona tried to give him the same courtesy Jory had given her. Duncan had chosen both of them as recruits, so the commander must have seen something more than she was.

So Solona agreed with him, her smile more than a little uneasy.

"I fought hard to get here. Impressing Duncan was not easy." Perhaps the Rivaini man was only impressed by those who were willing to sell out their honor, friends, and morals.

She immediately felt guilty for the churlish thought. Duncan had appreciated her grit and determination. She hadn't taken the easy way out.

"Tell me, has anyone told you what this Joining ritual entails? I had no idea there were more tests after getting recruited."

Solona side glanced at Alistair, who was wearing a perfectly pleasant smile.

"Now, now, Ser Jory. You'll learn in good time. As a matter of fact, we should be just about ready to begin. If you want to head back to Duncan . . ."

Both recruits saw his suggestion for the order it really was. Jory gave hasty goodbyes and hurried down the ramp.

"Sorry about that." Alistair ran a hand through his dark blond locks. "Ser Jory was the first to arrive, and he hasn't let up about the Joining since. Seemed to think if he pleaded enough we'd break our oaths to keep Grey Warden secrets. Honestly, I've never seen a grown man cry so much."

Solona believed him. The two minute long conversation had proven Jory to be a whiner, and possibly even possessing an inferiority complex. Most of what he had said was almost defensive of his credentials, as if he needed to prove he deserved to be here.

"I don't suppose you've got any food?" The question came from a caged man wearing only his smalls. "Or that you've finally come to sentence me?"

"Sentence you?" she echoed.

"He's a deserter," Alistair said, voice hard. "Was caught sneaking around camp at night."

The prisoner sank to the floor of his cage. "I'm not a deserter. But there's no arguing them out of that. Armies are funny that way. I would have, eventually. But I was just trying to steal some supplies from that creepy Tranquil guy." Admitting that the end goal was desertion probably wasn't going to help this man's case, she thought. "If you bring me some food, I'll give you the key to the mages' chest. I swallowed it, earlier, and it's recently come back into my possession."

That was disgusting.

The mage walked away without a word. The prisoner would have to work on his sales pitch on someone else. Distasteful as she thought it was to let the man starve while they decided his fate, she wasn't going to land herself in the cage next to him.

Solona paused at the base of the second ramp. Alistair had told Jory that they were probably ready to begin the Joining ritual, but she had only explored a small portion of the camp. He seemed content to let her roam, for the moment. Would he demand they get on with the Joining if she tried to see more of the camp?

"What do you need? You haven't brought me more instructions from the teyrn, I hope."

She was startled out of her thoughts by the gruff words apparently aimed at her. The man they belonged to looked foreboding. Stern brow, pointed eyes, and sharply trimmed facial hair. Unlike the majority of soldiers, he and all the other men in the area were wearing leather armor that allowed a greater freedom of movement at the cost of less protection.

"Do you talk to everyone like that?"

"If I feel like it." The man studied her a moment. "If you're not from the teyrn, what do you want? We're busy."

Solona didn't want anything, especially not after the brusque way he talked to her. But if he was offering to answer questions, she was curious as to why this group of soldiers wore leather as opposed to chainmail.

"You don't look like the other soldiers in the army."

"We aren't. We're Ash Warriors." Well, that was helpful.

"And what is an Ash Warrior?"

"Our training has been passed down since Luthias the dwarfson first harnessed the battle-rage of the dwarves. It is an old tale."

Apparently, once going, the Ash Warrior could be very loquacious. He spun a tale on how a tribesman Luthias, strong and fierce despite his short stature, went to make an alliance with the dwarves of Orzammar, falling in love with Scaea, the king's daughter. It was she who taught Luthias to harness the dwarven battle-wrath, ignoring all pain. In turn, he taught the rest of his clan.

"So, you descend from the clan?"

The Ash Warrior heaved a put-upon sigh. "He was simply the first to be taught. Others were inspired by his death to follow his path."

Sensing more to the story, Solona asked, "How did he die?"

"Luthias prowess earned him the love of Morrighan'nan, a beautiful chieftain of another tribe. When Scaea learned of his seduction, she returned to her people. Luthias was grieved. He sent Morrighan'nan away, but this vexed her, and began a long war between their tribes. In the end, Luthias slew Morrighan'nan in single combat. However, his wounds were great, and he perished when the rage ended. The dwarves came from Orzammar that day and gave Luthias an honored burial mound, and we live by his teachings even today."

Intrigued, Solona continued to ask about the Ash Warriors, coming to learn they were also famous for fighting alongside their mabari. They put a great level of trust in the mabari, she thought. For all their intelligence, were they not still dogs? They painted themselves and the mabari with kaddis, a special warpaint so they could discern friend from foe in the midst of battle.

"What if the enemy is painted with kaddis as well?"

"Why? Would you steal our kaddis and give it to the darkspawn hordes?"

"I hope your joking," she said weakly. The mage couldn't imagine anyone wanting to help the darkspawn.

"If you tried, we would kill you. And that is no joke."

"What is the teyrn having you do?" Solona grasped for a change in topic, recalling that he first believed her to have come with instructions from Loghain.

"We are to scout the Wilds and watch the progression of the darkspawn horde. The teyrn has changed our scouting route a dozen times. With luck, we'll find and slaughter many stragglers. The hunt will be good if my hound survives the blood of his prey. If he dies, I shall mourn tonight."

A sense of dread filled her. "Survive the blood? What do you mean?"

"Darkspawn blood is poisonous, but not always fatal. Those who survive grow immune to its effects."

Solona felt faint. All the pieces of the puzzle that was the Joining had fallen into place. Grey Wardens were so effective against darkspawn because they needn't fear contracting the Taint. She would drink darkspawn blood, becoming a Grey Warden or dying a painful death.

It certainly explained why Duncan hadn't gone up and down the length of Ferelden conscripting anyone that could hold a sword.

The Ash Warrior had said more, but she missed it, distracted as she was by her revelation. Still, Solona thanked him for sharing his tale. She turned nearly knocking shoulders with Alistair. It served as a reminder to pull herself together. She wasn't supposed to know what the Joining entailed for this very reason. Faced with the knowledge that she would have to drink the blood of darkspawn, Solona wanted nothing more than to run.

In retrospect, it was easy to understand why rites of passage like the Harrowing and the Joining were kept secret until it was time. Given too much time to prepare, one would exhaust themselves. For mages, overextending limitations was dangerous. Ripe picking for a demon possession. She could only imagine how few volunteers the Grey Wardens would have if all of Thedas knew drinking darkspawn blood was a requirement upon signing up.

On auto-pilot, she walked over to Duncan's fire, closely followed by a concerned Alistair.

Duncan looked approving as the duo joined the other recruits. "You found Alistair then, did you? Good. I'll assume you're ready to begin preparations. Assuming, of course," he threw a pointed look at the other full-fledged Warden, "that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair."

The younger man appeared unaffected by the scolding. "What can I say? The revered mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army."

Solona literally bit her tongue to prevent any sound escaping.

"She forced you to sass the mage, did she? We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us." Duncan's voice shifted easily from lecturing to concern.

Abashed, Alistair dipped his head. "You're right, Duncan. I apologize."

She didn't have time to consider what Duncan meant by ammunition against the Grey Wardens, because the man in question had turned his attention on the three recruits. Jory and Daveth maintained a fairly large distance between themselves and the tower of fire. Solona, used to the roaring fires that kept the Circle Tower warm, was unbothered.

"Now then, since you are all here, we can begin. You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."

The two men paled, whether from finally being told they'd have to confront the darkspawn or because they understood the purpose of fetching darkspawn blood, Solona knew not.

"Surely you could have acquired some blood before now."

The words fell from her mouth before she could stop them. The corner of Alistair's lip tilted upwards. Thankfully, Duncan took her verbal diarrhea in good humor.

"Of course," he chuckled. "But you recruits must work together to collect the components, however. It's as much a part of the Joining as what comes after."

Solona fervently hoped they would be allowed one last meal before they underwent the Joining. Her last hot meal was just after she left the Tower. The stew from the Spoiled Princess which she hardly had the appetite to eat in light of the exhausting day she had had.

"Alistair is the most junior member of the order and will accompany as is tradition. Do not worry," he comforted. "I doubt you will need to go far into the Wilds to find what you seek."

"And what's the second task?" came Daveth's drawl. "Easier than scooping up tainted blood, I hope."

"There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls, if you can."

"Is this part of our joining too?" Jory asked.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Duncan had clearly directed the second task at the former templar. It only made sense to have him perform his task while he accompanied them as duty demanded.

"No," the commander said simply, "but the effort must be made. I have every confidence you are up to the task." Jory's back straightened at the praise. Interestingly, Solona noted, Duncan had been looking solely at her and Alistair.

"What kind of scrolls are they?" She was curious what the Grey Wardens might have left behind centuries ago.

"Old treaties, if you're curious." Solona grinned innocently under the knowing look he directed at her. "Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago. They were once considered only formalities. With so many having forgotten their commitments to us, I suspect it may be a good idea to have something to remind them with."

She silently marveled at the idea that these old treaties may have survived the long years, though she wasn't as confident that they could be useful. Chances were, based on how they were worded, the treaties would no longer apply. Or more accurately, politicians would tear apart the ancient writing so as to not be contractually bound by it.

"And if they are no longer there?" asked Daveth, casually cleaning out dirt from under his fingernails with a knife.

"It's possible the scrolls may have been destroyed. Or even stolen. Though the seal's magic should have protected them. Only a Grey Warden can break such a seal."

Duncan knew just what to say to pique her interest. Now, Solona was itching to get into the wilds and examine this complex magic seal.

"I don't understand. Why leave such things in a ruin if they're so valuable?" Alistair's confusion was understandable.

"It was assumed that one day we would return," was his answer. "A great many things were assumed that have not held true."

The air around them grew heavy. Solona could only imagine what made the older man so solemn.

"How will we find the archive?"

"It will be an overgrown ruin by now, but the sealed chest should remain intact. Alistair will guide you to the area you need to search."

The mage cocked an eyebrow, wondering why the phrasing of their objective had changed. She was under the impression that finding the archive was Alistair's task. Since he was obligated to lead the Warden recruits on their own task, it was simply efficient to complete his own at the same time. Now Duncan made it sound as if she, Jory and Daveth needed to locate the archive, and gathering the necessary vials of darkspawn blood along the way was convenient. Two birds, one stone.

Tasks given, Duncan turned to the man standing beside her. "Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely."

"We will," the dirty blond stated firmly.

"Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return."

Permission granted, Daveth practically sauntered in the direction of the gate heading into the Wilds. Solona shrugged at Alistair's amused expression, following after the rogue. Jory fell into step next to her, presumably not wanting to be labeled scared for walking at the rear of the group.

"Three warriors and a mage walk into the Wilds," she muttered under her breath.

Unseen behind her, Alistair quirked his lips. He was quite looking forward to the congregation after the Joining. The Grey Wardens would gather around a fire pit with good quality alcohol, celebrating the new brothers and sisters to join their ranks and toasting those who succumb to the Taint's poison. He dearly hoped Solona would survive. It was rare that Alistair, as an almost, albeit unwilling, templar, met a mage that didn't make him anxious, readying the lyrium in his veins for a smite.