Prophetia Intervallum

"I swear, all this walking will be the end of me," Elisa groaned as they trudged down the road towards Redcliffe.

"Nothing for it, Sister; you know just how much horses are valued here; they would have been moved as far north as possible while still remaining in the country. Some might even have had theirs shipped over the Waking Sea or into Orlais," Erik answered, he himself looking none the worse for wear despite the heavy armour that he carried in his pack in addition to his share of the supplies.

"I'm glad we ran across that strange dwarf," Leliana commented, she herself looking for all intents and purposes like she were merely taking an afternoon stroll instead of hiking across the country. She had abandoned her Chantry Sister's robes in favour of a fine set of leather armour that she had retrieved when Celestine and she met with the Revered Mother in regards to Sten, their newest companion. Elisa had been green with envy upon seeing the red-head's equipment, but finally contented herself with admitting that it was not truly suited for her, offering less protection and being more ideal for use as an archer, a skill that she had never truly pursued further than was absolutely necessary for partaking in Hunts.

Sten spent most of his time at the back of their small column, providing a strange form of motivation for nobody to fall behind. Upon being freed he had immediately torn off the shirt that he had been wearing in the cage – something that, while not admitting it aloud, all the ladies present appreciated. After receiving permission from Celestine for a short foray into the woods, who had been far too flustered seeing a man's bare chest for the first time - and a finely sculpted one at that - to think about her answer too greatly, he emerged again, bearing several herbs. He then, using Morrigan's mortar and pestle, turned them into a paste that he daubed across his muscular frame, painting himself with geometric patterns that helped remove any perception that he was human. Across his back he slung the huge axe that Leliana had thought to pick up in Lothering as well, as soon as they had convinced the Revered Mother to release the Qunari into the Wardens' custody. Celestine promised herself to ask about this ritual as soon as she found that she could talk to him without having her eyes drift towards his painted pectorals.

"And what makes you say that?" Alistair asked, sounding genuinely curious. "You do realise that our meeting them was purely due to the Darkspawn attacking, and I'd never say that encountering Darkspawn would be something to be glad about."

"Because, fool, the dwarf is clearly a scavenger; much like our delusional Sister here is." The way Morrigan said it made it clear that she meant nothing positive by referring to Leliana as a member of the Chantry.

The witch's acid tone didn't seem to faze the red-head at all though, who simply beamed at Alistair. "She is right in a sense. I hadn't thought anyone noticed that I had taken the gold I paid the innkeeper with from the men we had just killed."

Alistair paled. "You looted the dead?!" his tone was mortified.

"Of course - it was not as if they were going to use anything anymore," the former Chantry Sister responded matter-of-factly.

"Let it be, Alistair," Erik called from the front where he was walking with Celestine, "I have seen entire battlefields strewn with corpses and while it might be distasteful, there is a certain pragmatism to…re-appropriating that which once belonged to the dead; technically that's exactly what my sword and shield are."

Alistair made a grumbling noise, but didn't pursue the topic any further.

Celestine returned to quizzing Erik about everything she could think of as they walked. The young noble had built up a considerable knowledge of Thedas and in particular Ferelden. Whenever they passed certain landmarks, he would be able to point them out and recount what events had caused that place to be added to the history books, or what history remembered of certain things and places.

His retelling was never as accurate as an entry in a book would have been, but it added far greater complexity when there were links between occurrences and places that Erik could tie together. Currently they were passing through the middle of the Hinterlands, drawing closer to a crossroads in the Imperial highway, where the road would split off between the one heading east, towards Orzammar, the underground city of the dwarves, and Orlais, Ferelden's closest neighbouring country; the other headed west towards Denerim, Ferelden's Capitol and the last headed north, towards Redcliffe and Kinloch Hold.

Celestine recalled heading through this area after first making it out of the Circle. She had been all wide eyes and wonder then, spending nights underneath a starry sky and on a floor not made of paved stones; walking through forests and meadows that seemed to rejoice in the mere fact of their existence. Even passing by the strange stone carvings left behind by the ancient Avvar tribes was fascinating.

The experienced had revitalised her after the encounter with Jowan; his betrayal had hurt almost as a physical wound might have, the only person she had trusted her entire life at the Circle had turned on her. To make it worse, she had seen the effect of his turning to Blood Magic had had on Lily. The poor girl had suddenly doubted everything about their relationship, had questioned whether or not she'd been acting of her own accord, had wondered when it was that he had turned to using the forbidden art or if he had always been doing so throughout their being associated. Then Lily had been sent to Aonar. Celestine knew that many mages viewed the Circles as a prison, but what was a place like that Templars considered a prison?

The outside world had cleared her mind of that ordeal, the fascinating encounters with livestock and wildlife – the sheer variety! She recalled how it had taken Alistair the better part of a day to compose himself after seeing her reaction to druffalo – the first she had seen had terrified her!

It had helped being in the company of the strange man as well; his boundless enthusiasm and strange interests, his odd ways of expressing himself and how he had always seemed to try and care for her, his charge. It made her question a great deal of ideas she had formed over the years, reading of the Grey Wardens and living with the scrutiny of the Templars. This man had begun training as a Templar, yet Celestine could not picture any of those in the tower ending up conversing with her in the manner that he did.

She recalled that she had likened him to Ser Cullen when they had first stepped out of the Tower's imposing shadow, but she had been wrong. Apart from truly minor similarities in appearance, the man that had recruited her into the Wardens was nothing like the other. Cullen had always been very stiff in his demeanour, where Alistair seemed to always be overly excited. Cullen had always seemed nervous and hesitant where Alistair charged forth in a clumsy but adorable manner. Cullen had always been serious where Alistair was anything but. Celestine halted her train of thought. Maker, what was she doing? Comparing the two, it was not fair to either.

"Ahum, sorry about that - what were you saying?" she asked Erik, who had been silent for a while now, quietly smiling to himself. Celestine silently kicked herself and hoped that her fawning had not been too obvious. I wonder if Alistair's chest looks anything like Sten's…dammit…where had that thought come from? Yet she did not deny to herself that now that it had occurred to her, that she was now very curious on that matter - unaware that behind her, the subject of her thoughts was having difficulties with very similar ones.

Maferath's soiled drawers...think of anything else! Something, DO NOT WATCH THE SWAY OF THE HIPS. NO. STOP. Think cheese, Blight, Darkspawn, serious things! Maker, why didn't they cover this part of dealing with mages in Templar training? REMEMBER TO SAVE THE WORLD ALISTAIR! WORLD! SAVE!

~o~

Samantha walked up to Deon, the Tranquil in charge of the Circle's stores. She handed him the note she had been given, and he took it. His almost uncaring eyes scanned the sheet, then he turned around, walked over towards the locked cupboards, and using a large iron key, opened one of them, pulled out an object, wrapped it in an oiled cloth and locked the compartment again. Turning back to Samantha, he handed over the object. She opened the leather pouch she'd been given for this task and dropped the item inside. Flipping the lid of the bag closed, she secured it using the thin straps. Runes on the leather glowed briefly as the bag's enchantment activated, but faded again, leaving Samantha with a bag that looked completely normal.

"Oh, hi Samantha," a female voice said from behind her. She knew it. It belonged to Apprentice Minaev.

"Greetings, Apprentice."

The young elf made a face at being addressed by her title. She was new to the Circle, having been brought in only a month ago by the Templars that had rescued her from a mob. "I would prefer it if you called me by my name."

"Tranquil are prohibited from addressing any non-Tranquil without the use of the appropriate honourific."

Minaev made a face again. "Stupid rules," but then she looked at Samantha with a different expression. Samantha could not interpret it. "But I suppose you prefer it this way, everything structured, no deviation, all energy conserved for the tasks which are most vital."

"I do not have preferences."

The elf sighed. "Ah well, it was nice talking with you; I'm sure the First Enchanter has sent you on another vitally important errand again, forgetting that even Tranquil need to eat."

"The First Enchanter's tasks take precedence."

"Yes, yes, get on with it before you get in trouble."

Samantha left, starting down the steps that led to the research chambers of the First Enchante; she catalogued the exchange she had had with the elf. The First Enchanter would want to know of it; he always wanted a full recounting of any social interactions she had had with any non-Tranquil.

She reached the level where the First Enchanter's laboratory was located. Using a measured pace she wound her ways through the corridors until she came to the right door. She rapped the pattern he had told her to use onto the wood and walked in as the door opened of its own volition.

"Ah, Trevelyan, you're back; fast as always."

"I always operate at optimal capacity, First Enchanter."

"That you do, that you do; tell me, did you have any interesting encounters?"

"Yes, I was approached by the new Apprentice, the elf, Minaev."

"Ah, good, good; the Dalish one, a new perspective will be welcome. I'll ask you to tell me how it played out later. But first, go to the mess and get yourself something to eat. My stomach has been making its presence known today, and I think I will make sure to silence it soon before it drives me insane. Well…more insane."

"Yes, First Enchanter," Samantha responded neutrally.

"What? Oh, yes. Food. The Mess. Off with you now." The old man made a shooing gesture as he watched his Tranquil assistant leave.

~o~

They had passed by several houses, the wooden structures standing conspicuously empty. Weary of what might have caused the buildings to be unoccupied, the group was on high-alert, everyone's hands hovering on or near their weapons.

They rounded a large boulder to be presented with a set of gates, which like the houses they had passed, seemed to be abandoned – there were no sentries checking passers-by, and no guards patrolling the top of the fortification. The wrongness sent a shiver down Celestine's spine.

Elisa hissed for the group to stop, and everyone froze. Nothing changed, until a short while later they heard the crunch of footsteps on the path ahead – they were fast, running. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath until the figure rounded the bend, which allowed everyone to relax somewhat; it was only a man, seemingly a merchant of sorts, or an artisan, judging by the quality of his clothes.

The man ran up to the group when he saw them, collapsing on the ground at their feet as soon as he was close, breathing ragged. "Thank…the…Maker." He gasped.

Celestine moved forward to help him up despite unhappy sounds coming from numerous members of the party. She leaned down and rubbed a glowing hand down his back; the man, unaware of her spell, seemed to breathe easier, giving Celestine a grateful look.

A short moment later he was able to struggle to his feet. "Thank you friends, I thought I was done for. But it seems they stopped following me."

Erik looked at him, taking in the condition of the man's clothes. "'They'?"

"You don't know?" The man looked from one companion to the next, his face growing slightly more panicked as each face revealed to be merely confused at what he said, or entirely expressionless. "The town's been under attack for the past several weeks! First we heard that the Arl was sick and that his knights had been sent out to try and find a cure for whatever ailed him, next, the dead were streaming out of the castle. Every night they've been attacking the town; the Bann has been doing his best to hold them off, but they won't be able to hold out for much longer. I saw an opening and ran; they almost got me back there." The man shuddered, "Blessed Andraste, if I never encounter the living dead again it will be too soon."

Celestine looked between the members of their group, they all had the same look in their eyes, well, all save Morrigan and Sten. Erik gave a curt nod, and Celestine straightened up, addressing the man. "Look, if Redcliffe's been isolated for several weeks now, then it's likely you haven't heard the news: The King is dead, we - the last remaining Grey Wardens in the land - have been branded traitors by the regent and the Darkspawn are surging north unopposed. I suggest that if you plan to go anywhere, it be north – and well defended."

The man's eyes were wide by the time she finished. "The King is dead?! Darkspawn? Maker, it must be the end of the world!"

There was nothing more they could do for him, so the group formed up and passed underneath the archway that led into Redcliffe.