She travels the land with her companions
And soldiers in tow. She dismounts
And surveys the land far
and wide
Searching, searching, searching—
She turns to her companions
And whispers an inaudible
Instructions; her companions
Scurry about in every direction
The stoic figure looks about
Her gaze intense, her expression masked
The companions, after a while return
Empty- handed, covered in dirt
And sweat; she looks up and looks at each.
Her eyes, darker from their usual hue
She utters aloud: “This better be remedied!
It shouldn’t take hours on end to uncover a lore!”
She summons her steed and gallops at full speed;
She shouts ahead at the guards at the gate
The heavy oversized doors open at lightning speed.
She enters the Keep and comes to an abrupt halt;
Her Knight Commander, rushes to her side
With concerns clearly displayed
On his manly, rugged handsome face.
“Knight Commander,” she begins, “I want you to send
A detachment of troops to the area I will mark
On this map.” The Knight Commander’s demeanor
Changes immediately to a militaristic readiness
His intelligent eyes peeled on the map, shaking
His blondish head, up and down, while the sun
Reflects the golden tints of summer’s ripe
Yellow corn’s hue of it, which dances in
Her violet, turned dark pupils of her eyes.
“I want this done at once, Knight Commander!”
She utters in a snappish tone. The Knight Commander
Unaccustomed to his Chief current tone responded
And snapped into action, his mind on the matter,
His heart in agony. He
did what he was instructed
By his Commander-in-Chief—first out of duty—
Second because of his contained sentiment
That’s bordered on adulation—everything
In him worships her—her the lady of his dreams.
He she relies upon to guide and command her armies
He dared not—avows his undying love to her. Days
In and out he masked it like an outbreak of the worst
Kind—“I dare not—I dare not!” Knight Commander—
The Senior Captain urges on.
He returned. “Ensure
You leave no stone
unturned, Senior Captain. Report back
To me immediately upon
satisfaction of the mission.”
The handsome Knight Commander returns to his reverie—
Smiling to himself to
things only known to his heart.
“Knight Commander, Knight Commander!” the Senior Captain—
A pile of puddle and dirt stood before him. “Yes, Senior
Captain?
Have you been successful? His handsome face in distraught.
He’d overhead his Chief pacing the floor above his war room
In the fields—her footsteps laden—unmeasured as if
She carries the weight of the world in each chaotic step.
“Well, yes? Out with it Captain!” Unable to contain his
Usual coolness—frustration became him. “Well, Knight
Commander we even went beyond the point—nothing.
We turned all in a disorderly state. Nothing. Nothing.
Nothing ‘till we reach an unknown, undiscovered border
Covered with Red Lyrium as far as the eye can see.”
The Knight Commander utters an exasperated gasp!
“We’re not only faced with fruitlessness—now this? Stand by
With your troop, Senior Captain.
Keep your soldiers ready—
Gather the rest from about the Keep.” The Knight Commander
Reaches the top floor as time and space become one—
Interchangeable. He sees
her leaning against the ledge of an open
Window—her feminine figure alluringly displayed—for a second
In time he saw his future whizzes by in a flashing tempo
Of continuity unaltered-unabridged, where everything is filled
With her—with her intense
violet gaze, with her eye-catching,
Heart stopping smile! Just for that fraction of time—the world
Disappeared! “Knight
Commander, you bring me good tidings? “
Her insisting voice, yet
almost the tone that thumps his heart,
“No, your Grace. In fact,
I’m the messenger of melancholy.
Our guards found not the
lore despite their assiduousness.
They returned empty-handed
but with a most disturbing
Declaration.” She turns about too abrupt to determine
The haste. “Knight Commander, speak!” That spark in her
stare,
Did he imagine it? “Yes, Your Grace, this report shocks me to
The core. Red Lyrium—like grains of sands along the
shore
Of the Storm Coast—are to
be found along an undiscovered border.
“Knight Commander, surely
you jest! You must be!” Her stare
The replica of death
alive—somber (The reflection of his face
Swirls in her dark pools
as she fixates him). “Send a messenger
To Skyhold to fetch
Leliana, Josephine and Mother Giselle.
Make haste, make haste!
Meet me in the war room thereafter.
A commodum of
thumping—rushing feet replaces the solemnity
And quietness of the
Keep—the beauty and serenity of the world
Surround the happenstance
of life.
“Knight
Commander, what do you know of this border? Have
You heard rumors from your
scout? Why have you not known
Of this?” The Knight Commander’s distaste for that raw
Material clearly exhibits
across the ruggedness of his jaw,
In the deep creases of his
furrowed brow. “Your Grace,
The diligence of our
scouts is without reproach; I can’t
But fault myself for being
rigor-less, a shallow of what
I once was prior to cross
path with you—“
“Knight Commander, do not
wallow in regrets! This
Isn’t
the time! Know that my armies are more equipped
To crush any opposing
forces; this is due to you,
My Knight Commander!” In
an internal repertoire—
Where secrets are caged,
the Knight Commander utters:
“It is why life is her for
me; it is why I adore her above
All reasons!” An escalated
commotion and voices
Resound across the halls,
throughout the Keep (The living
World is but a whirl
around it all).
In a decided gait, she strolls to the balcony; the faces
Of her two trusted Advisers greet her with both concern
And a shared greeting on unreadable faces to onlookers,
But to her, those two knew her better than herself at times.
The benevolent Mother Giselle, her perceptive eyes,
Her wisdom and calmness are hallmark of a time past;
A time revered—a time lost. Her reassuring gaze both
Calms and soothes; they meet hers.
Time rushes their hasten feet into the war room where
Chairs are huddled around an oblong table where
The Knight Commander handles the movement of his forces
Under his command; smaller maps, missives, miniatures
Soldiers and Keeps and encampments decorated this war
Table in style; it was a sight to the onlookers whose seen
another
Version of said war table at Fort Céleste (Skyhold); if
comparison
Were made, it would be like a pebble in a stream—deeply buried.
Worriedness became this ensemble albeit fleetingly; her voice
reaches
Them in a well-leveled, measured-tone as the entourage sit in
chairs
Dislodging the monotony of the room—the gloomy tune of it all.
“Your thoughts, on this I wish to hear my close confidents.
Mother
Giselle, I would like to hear your opinion first.” She states
In a non-ceremonial mode as she sits between her and Josephine.
All eyes on her; Mother Giselle in her poised controlled manner
States in a voice that grabs, soothes and teaches non-judgmentally:
“You’re the Inquisitor; you’re the voice of the masses and yet
You seek me; I say Inquisitor to look within your heart and
decide.
This matter here can be seen in various ways. We need to seek
Out the “whys”; and this certainly makes no sense to me that
There could be such a volume of this mineral so close to our
border.”
Haven’t you ousted the lead perpetrators and singed their nests?”
The Knight Commander, in his articulate-logical way declared:
“Oh, our forces did. It
is why this is a mystery and why I believe
Our Grace call us to this tête-à-tête…” Leliana interjects: “My
spies
I need to rein them in; they need to be more vigilant. Your Grace,
I will get to the bottom of this; “I will get to the bottom of
it as well,”
Josephine chimes in. My
well-connected Lords and Ladies will
Definitely have some information.” A pair of violet pearls rove
On each participant; her intelligent gaze amassing the things
said
And unsaid. She states: “Thank you Mother Giselle. Your wisdom
Is a gift from Andraste. Your logical reasoning I treasure. It
is why
I always seek your viewpoint. You my constant trio, you help me
Become who I am. I count on your counselling; the Inquisition
thrives
Because of you. Go and seek the root of this. I’ll act with
wisdom.”
The air is heavy and grave —yet filled with hope. She has
brought
Order and peace; they rise; they walk out—their footsteps
Resonate the gravity of things; Mother Giselle hers are lithe,
with
Assurance and confidence—there is always a way. Even her walk
Reflects that. The Knight Commander’s footfalls were calculative
As he ponders of what this could mean for his resolve and of his
Heart’s desire. She is in
contemplation. She is in deep thought.
The case of the stubborn lore still lingers in her mind while
this
New state of affair looms overhead in the balance of things.
© January 8th, 2015
