They started on their way to the Tower as the leaves were beginning to change. At times the path curved away out of sight of the lake, and at other times traveled almost at the water’s edge. As they camped at night often the lapping of the lake waters against the shore lulled them to sleep. The nights grew colder, though there was still no threat of frost. Zevran found Ferelden too cool and rainy for his tastes even in summer, and began to dread traveling in the coming winter.
Finally Zevran caught his first glimpse of the tower, a tall spire jutting up out of the water in the distance. As he grew closer he saw it stood on a barren island. With nothing to use for scale, it was hard to say how tall the tower was. Upon reaching the shore, they found a small village huddled at the edge of the lake. It was clear from the state of the roads that not much trade got in or out. Jutting into the lake was the ruins of an ancient causeway that had once run over the waters to the Circle Tower. Zevran could not tell if it had fallen from disuse or purposefully been destroyed. Beside the ruins was a dock with a ferry and a couple smaller boats waiting tied to it. A Templar was posted at the docks.
Zevran had never seen Blair around a Templar before and glanced at him, curious to see his reaction. Blair was staring at the man, tight-lipped. He turned to Alistair and said in a low voice, “Why don’t you go talk to him, he’s your kind.”
( Read more...Collapse )