Resplendent in a glimmering set of gilded armor, forged to fit a woman's curves, the Queen rode along with Loghain, a man who cut a figure every bit as imposing as the young Queen's was radiant. The two of them seemed opposites in every aspect. The old warrior with his dull practical iron cuirass, creased face and charcoal hair. The young warrior Queen with her sparkling platemail, rosy cheeks and long blond mane. Riding astride these two polarities was a small but elite retinue of guards and, of course, Kayla's faithful Mabari, Thorn. "Must you bring that hound everywhere, my Queen?" Loghain repeated a familiar refrain.

"This is Ferelden, not Orlais. You saw to that," she added with a playful wink.

"True, if it was, you'd be back in the palace where you belong, not here in mortal danger."

"The fact that I'm a woman does not change the need of soldiers to see their leader on the battlefield sharing in the danger... and the glory."

Loghain uttered a sigh that ended in a reluctant grin, "there's much of your father in you. Too much at times."

As the ruined walls broke to their right the bridge came into view and on it, striding out of the woodland mists like a memory, a familiar stoic figure wearing the armor of the Grey Wardens. "Look, I think I see them," Kayla cried excitedly suddenly sounding like a little girl. "Yes, it's him, the Warden commander and the new recruits!"

"Steady yourself, my Queen, this is not one of your mother's storybooks."

Before answering Kayla took a brief survey of the massing army, men practicing their aim and honing their weapons in preparation for the battle to come. "You could have fooled me, uncle."

"I promise you," the old warrior replied rather grimly, "by the end of this, you'll know the difference between fantasy and reality."