Wearied and bloodied by the last campaign, Grimm had little desire to face enemies even more shadowy and mobile than his last foes. He sent emissaries to the Scouts. Many divisions of Legionnaires marched into the distant wilderness, never to return. Whether it was Man or Beast who brought them doom, Grimm never knew, but at last, after two hundred had vanished, he himself led a band of chosen warriors to seek out the leader of the Scouts.
From the ranks of the Scouts emerged their queen, a woman of severe beauty and ice-blue eyes. Her name was Andraste. Each leader, fearless and unconquered, was reflected in the other’s gaze; in that moment, they knew themselves.
More respect than love, for their hearts were long since hardened against weak emotions, the bond between them was instant and could not be broken. Silence held the armies; loyal soldiers for long years, they had come to know their masters’ minds and could see there would be no battle. Arms were lowered. Hands extended. And Man was united under a single banner.