It was a scorching summer day in the bustling Redcliffe village, with the unforgiving sun relentlessly blazing down on its people. A young boy, no more than eight years of age, strode down the busy street with purpose. His attire, though worn, was well-kept and showed signs of recent washing. A wooden sword, secured to his waist with a frayed rope, swayed back and forth in synchrony with each step of his sturdy but worn leather boots.

His family had spent hours selling apples from their orchard in Honnleath at the Redcliffe Fair.  Honnleath’s apples were popular with the villagers for their remarkable size and juicy, succulent flesh. With the hot weather and hard work making everyone thirsty, his father had sent him to fetch a jug of wine from the nearby eatery.

His walk to the tavern was interrupted by a series of faint whimpers coming from old crates that had been dumped along the side of the street. As he came closer and peered behind them, he was expecting to see a kitten, or perhaps a puppy, but what he saw instead took him back.

He discovered a small girl, no older than four or five, squatting on the ground with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Her eyes were red and swollen with tears. Despite her expensive, immaculate clothing, her thin face and boney frame gave her the appearance of a street urchin.

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"Why are you crying little one?" the young boy asked, his voice laced with concern.

"I can’t find my momma," she mumbled through her sobs. "I ran after a kitty and got lost."

"You shouldn’t stay here, it's not safe," the boy told her. "Let's go to the Chantry. I know a Sister who will help you find your momma."

"I am only allowed to follow strangers if they are from the Chantry," the girl’s voice trembled with fear.

The boy's eyes lit up, “ Then, there is no problem. I am training to become a Templar. Look, I even have a sword,” he proudly showed her the small wooden sword tied to his waist.

“Really?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“I swear to the Maker,” he replied, offering her a helping hand. “And if you stop crying, I will reward you with treasure”

"Treasure?" The girl perked up, her tears slowing down.

As the boy smiled, the radiant sun spilled its golden rays through his tousled, blond curls, and cast a luminous halo around his head. "Yes, a beautiful amulet with Andraste’s undying flames engraved upon it."

"Oh, good sir," exclaimed the girl, her fear dissipating, "I won't cry, I promise!"

Taking his hand, she followed the boy, eager to get the promised reward.