As the group approached, Joras noted a man split apart from the group and quickly make his way across the camp, barely giving the Warden a glance. Ahead of the other recruits, Duncan crossed the bridge, and, when he caught sight of Joras, signaled him to approach with a wave of his hand. 
 
	Curious, the newer Warden walked to the Commander of the Grey, who had stepped off to the side. Clearly whatever Duncan wanted to discuss, it was meant to be out of earshot with the other recruits. A smile flittered over Joras’s face, “Exciting,” he said softly to himself. 

	The older man spoke in a low voice, “We have an elf with us, a mage,” he said, “we will need her magic if we want to survive.” He jerked his head in the direction of the new recruits that were making their way across the bridge that hung above the valley. “Find her behind me on the bridge and get her to the healers, but stay with her. We cannot afford to have a mage succumb to the taint and wreak havoc on the eve of battle.” His voice became slightly pained over the next few words, “Keep your blade close at hand and if the time comes, do what must be done."

	Joras’s lips turned upwards in a sly smile, and his hand reached almost instinctively to the dagger he wore at his back. Duncan was quick however, and slapped him, not unkindly, on the shoulder, “Only if you have no other choice,” he spoke each word slowly, intending to drive home the point that this wasn’t to be done for Joras’s own pleasure. 

	“Of course Commander,” the Warden said, the smile disappearing and his face becoming a mask of seriousness. He crossed his arms over his breast and bowed, “I’ll attend to her immediately.” Duncan nodded and began to head into the camp, towards the royal retinue that Joras noticed had started to make their way towards them. 

	Biting his lip a bit as he looked at the Queen and Teyrn on their way, Joras turned on his heel and quickly made his way across the bridge. There was more than one mage in the group of new recruits, but one could make out which was the one infected with the Darkspawn taint. She was a pretty girl, for an elf, but her skin had turned unnaturally pale and the veins that ran up the neck pulsed with a forbidding shade. The taint had the girl in a vice grip, and they would have to proceed with the Joining as soon as possible if they didn’t want a sudden Darkspawn in their midst. 

	The former noble approached her, walking with a sort of gait that comes to those that are bred to be confident, leaders of men. In his armor, freshly cleaned by an elf that didn’t look too busy, and a harness wrapped across his chest that held two sharpened Veridium blades across his back, Joras cut quite the dashing image. He gave her a very friendly smile, and once more, crossed his arms over his breasts and bowed. 

	“My lady,” he began, “my name is Joras Telrik, I'm a fellow Grey Warden. Commander Duncan has informed me that you are ill. He’s tasked me with ensuring you are looked after by the healers here, until we can proceed with our ritual.” Another smile, this one showing a bit of teeth, and he held out his hand, every bit the gracious gentleman. “I suggest we hurry so that we miss the Queen and the Teyrn. Teyrn Loghain is not fond of us Wardens even in the best of times.”