Winter had come for the Southwestern regions of Thedas in a flurry of snow that coated these once grassy green fields with mountains of white. With a heavy heart, Zargabaath had said his farewells to fall and now greets the bitter chill of winter with renewed fortitude. The Knight-Commander of Pharos trudged through the deep piles of snow upon his trusty white steed. Durandal didn't seem to flinch as her grey hooves dug into the snow. The horse's head reared up regally with every step matching the confidence of the knight who rode her. The pair looked cut right out from a fairytale, the heroic knight upon his white horse. Yet despite their heroic appearance Zargabaath felt nothing like a hero now.

The sparks of rebellion have begun. Order is broken and with it, its knights. While the Knight-Commander wasn't blind to the comotion that brewed behind closed doors, Zargabaath never expected to have renegades amongst his men. That was certainly not something Zargabaath counted on since he handpicked his men personally from a roster of decorated names. However, the corruption of the Order runs deeper than a man's veins. He had no hope of knowing the truth until now.

Riding by horseback to the snowy hills ahead, Zargabaath paused once he hears the cawing of a bird within the distance. The rest of his entourage of thirty or so creed-bound templars came to a slow halt as well. Their battle fatigued gaze lingered upon the white cloak of their commander.

Another caw forced Zargabaath to glance up at the sky again once the black wings of a raven meets his gaze. He lowers Durandal's silver reins and raise his guantlet covered hand. The raven swoops down and lands upon the commander's wrist with a few gentle flaps. Once settled, Zargabaath reaches to the bird's leg where the telltale signs of a message lingers. The bird caws again once the message is seized and then hops onto Zargabaath's shoulder. Now reading, a slightly muffled chuckle escapes from under his helmet and his men notice.

It's from Stannis.