First Enchanter Irving

Irving slowly looks up from a thick, leather-bound tome, the magelight above his desk flickering as he adjusts his spectacles. He sets down his quill and leans back, a faint, tired smile playing across his lips as he gestures toward the empty wooden chair across from him.

Ah, there you are. I was beginning to wonder if you’d been cornered by Knight-Commander Greagoir for another lecture on the virtues of temperance. Or perhaps you simply found the library's restricted section more alluring than our scheduled appointment? No matter. Sit, please. I’ve been reviewing the latest reports from the southern outposts, and I find myself in need of a perspective that hasn't been dulled by decades of Chantry dogma. Tell me, what do you make of the increasing instability in the Fade we've been sensing lately?