Author's note: Story takes place essentially at the start of DA:O, so no massive spoilers here.

Books and Looks

On the fifth day of every third month the Circle Tower had a wave of noise. New apprentices streamed through the massive gate of the entrance and noise always followed. Tapping feet, excited chatters, awed voices; the outcome became a tri-monthly ritual for Cullen. The men and women of varying ages would comment and he carried out his role and ushered them to order when needed.

Such as rituals go, the templar Cullen restrained from straying away from his duties as watchful guard. Order required constant vigilance and he wasn't about to stop his watchful gaze for any suspicious activity from these magic-wielders.

Order meant a lot of looking and even more standing. On his crankier days, his armor felt so heavy on his shoulders, pressing down on him like an invisible force. Thank the Maker he had permission to bypass wearing the suffocating helm indoors. Seniority had its benefits.

Sometimes, he envied the mages. With their light and flowing robes, armor was a laughable necessity.

It took a solid two weeks for the fresh apprentices to fully accustom themselves to the where's and how's of the tower. Cullen took his space in one of the corners of the largest library on the second floor. There were multiple libraries and this one he favored most. Airy, well-lit, and not too crowded unless heavy research called for it.

Cullen swept his eyes across the perimeter of the expansive library. Today was another good day. Some readers at a far table and a set of astute talkers closer. Cullen considered shushing them at one point, but this morning had been so deathly silent that hearing voices was almost a reprieve.

He shifted his weight and stuck his head out the corridor. Wiplug was supposed to relieve him. Nowhere in sight yet. Nothing remarkable about that; tardiness was the man's middle name.

Cullen sighed and turned to go back to his respective corner. An eye level of hardback spines met the front of his face right before they rammed into him.

The carrier of the volumes yelped and teetered. He instinctively made a grab for what he could, be it person or item. All he caught was the thickest book out of the bunch. Everything else crashed to the floor, including the mage who landed hard on her rump. Cullen winced when an edge of a book smacked her face.

"Ow! When did education have to hurt?" The grumble was testy and the woman who spoke rubbed her cheek and forehead. She seemed like an older recruit and not the usual bubbly-faced youngsters which permeated the crowds at every inauguration. Perhaps around 20, though when it came to women's ages Cullen had no knack.

"You shouldn't have carried so many books," Cullen automatically informed her. His mouth ran on auto-pilot when mages caused trouble. It was his duty.

The mage scowled at him, but he wasn't deterred. He was right.

"Thanks for the advice." She picked herself off the floor from her sprawled position. Frustratingly pushing aside her dark hair off her face, she resumed to gather up the books in her lap.

Standing right in front of her, Cullen spied the starting of a small bruise at the side of her forehead. Judging by the navy robes new apprentices donned, she was one.

Perhaps he needed a break from boredom. Before he could prevent himself he bent to retrieve a book that nearly cleared the open archway he stood beside, and then another nearby. He straightened, which wasn't the easiest thing to do wearing hefty armor and carrying an armful of literature. "All you all right?"

"No. I didn't want to be right in how stodgy I expected you to be." Disappointment clearly registered on her face.

Cullen couldn't help wondering what she expected from him when they hadn't met before. "I'm not."

Continuing to pile books, she looked ready to heft them up and reenact another disastrous trip.

"You're carrying that many again?" Cullen couldn't understand why.

"Stodgy," the lady reminded him. Her arms strained with weight. She gestured with her chin for him to place his tomes on top.

"Practical." Cullen wasn't about to watch her drop these volumes again. The bindings were fragile enough as is. The next fall could snap them clean from the cover for all he knew. First Enchanter Irving would certainly have something severe to say about destruction of property. "You'll just drop them. Make two trips."

"No, I want to make one." She sounded adamant about it.

So could he. "Two. Whomever you're bringing those to wouldn't appreciate loose pages, would they?"

The mage's expression was almost obscured by the height of the topmost book lining up with her nose. Cullen couldn't see much else other than her eyes. Ready to argue further, Cullen sensed, but when she groaned and balanced the stack against her body, she gave in. "Fine." The tomes muffled her admission. "Make sure nobody else signs these out, ok...?" she trailed off, grasping for his name.

"Cullen," he supplied.

"Right." Her hands tightened around the precarious tower and she steadily walked out. "Guard those titles with your life, Cullen." The hint of teasing floated past the doorway, surprising him. His name skimmed her mouth sooner than he anticipated and all Cullen could do was blink. Hearing a mage call a templar by name was noteworthy enough to be entered in a codex.

Silence reigned in the library again. Alone with his thoughts, Cullen just realized he hadn't gotten her name.

He felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. Well, she was coming back soon.

Then it dawned. He wasn't. His shift was over. As if to add to the disappointing revelation, in the distance Wiplug approached, actually on time today. The one instance he couldn't be tardy and it had to be now?

"Sir." Wiplug nodded in curt greeting. "Can you believe it, but I'm on time. All day to everywhere. I must be flying."

Cullen couldn't make up an excuse to stay on the premise. Templars didn't make excuses for mages. "Yes. Good for you." He regretted the sliver of bitterness that pricked him. "There's someone who is coming back for these books." He set them on the floor. "Do see to it they acquire them."

"One of the instructors? Who is it? Not the crony Hutley with the regulating mana fetish?" Wiplug joked with a snort. Rumor spread about Templar Hutley and his recent love for mana preservation which templars supposedly received hidden benefits from. He continually stalked the bookshelves like a phantom.

Cullen found it hard to swallow then. "I-it's a mage." The templar assisting, not watching.

"Mage?" Wiplug's tone hardened instantly around the word, all joviality gone. "Yes, of course."

They exchanged positions and Cullen resisted lingering. He left.

Author's note: Stay tuned for chapter 2!