âShe what?â Leon resisted the urge to run his hand down his face. Being kind was one thing, but there was a certain point at which one had to consider other factors. Though⊠he supposed he couldnât really be too upset. He might have done the same thing, in that situation, and considering that it was hard to fault her, exactly.
âWell, you know⊠our troops are out there, and itâs not like sheâs never done anything by herself before.â Donnellyâs tone was a fraction defensive, and Leon held up a hand to show that he wasnât going to be making a big event of it. âIt was just flowers. Iâd have gone with her myself, but she said she needed the walk.â From the way he said it, it was a turn of phrase with a particular meaning for her, and though he sighed slightly, Leon nodded.
âAll right. Just⊠tell me what direction she went, and Iâll go get her myself.â Ordinarily, he wouldnâtâheâd take his cue from Estellaâs comrades and trust that sheâd be fine, but she wasnât just any member of the Inquisition, and he supposed he found it disconcerting that she seemed to be able to stumble upon trouble with such precision. Still, as long as she was fine, there wasnât any need to make a major production of this, and he could simply retrieve the Herald and escort her back, with no need to inform Marceline or, Maker forbid, Cyrus that sheâd left the village by herself.
Donnelly eased, his baleful expression shifting back into his usual good humor. âSure. Fellow said his wife was buried in Hafterâs Woods, on the hill.â The Lionsâ Lieutenant, long familiar with the area from his squadâs survey work, tapped the spot on the command tentâs map, and Leon made a mental note of it. âStelâs seen the map, too; sheâll know which route to take, so it shouldnât be hard to find her.â
Leon inclined his head a second time, and Donnelly snapped a brief salute before exiting the tent, leaving the Seeker to contemplate his armor. In the end, he chose to forgo it, layering his clothes with only a cloak, and applying leather gauntlets to his hands rather than the steel ones he used in heavier combat situations. Despite his disinclination to simply let the Herald wander about on her own, he wasnât really too worried about fighting anythingâhe knew the troops were proud of the work theyâd done clearing out the place, even the fort to the south. There would still be stragglers, though.
Pulling up the flap on the command tent, Leon ducked under it and headed out. Since Donnelly was technically second-in-command of the squads here, there wasnât a particular need to inform anyone else specifically of where he was going, and he elected for discretion in this case and didnât.
He was well on his way to the gate when he came upon a scene he wasnât sure he would have expected: Vesryn was apparently in conversation with one of the locals, who had what looked like a very distraught expression for some reason. They were standing next to what appeared to be a fenced-in yard, as one would use to pen medium-sized animals. His brows furrowed, Leon diverted from his initial path and approached. Probably best to make sure there wasnât a dispute or something, though he had a hard time imagining Vesryn causing something of the kind.
âIs everything all right here?â he inquired, using the mildest tone in his repertoire, which usually went some distance toward mitigating the fact that he looked the way he did.
The elf turned, smiling a bit awkwardly. "Ah, yes, young James here was just explaining a situation to me regarding his missing ram, what was the name?" He titled his head sideways. The man, with blonde hair halfway covering a rather clearly missing eye, jumped at the chance to enter the conversation.
"Lord Woolsly, sers. A most special ram. He wandered off, you see, as he sometimes does. If he were to be found I'd be most grateful." Vesryn crossed his arms, tracing the toe of his boot absently through the dirt and nodding.
"Of course. But... you do know the Inquisition might be a bit preoccupied to chase lost rams? What makes yours so special anyway?"
"Well, he's always brought the family luck," he said, without any hesitation, "and his advice has helped us make our fortune." Vesryn quirked an eyebrow at him, before glancing over at Leon.
Admittedly, it took Leon a second to make sense of that claim. Vesrynâs point about preoccupation was quite a good one, but at least partly moot, since he was headed out of Redcliffe at the moment anyway, and the commander sighed. âWell⊠I canât promise anything, but since Iâm leaving for a bit regardless, Iâll keep an eye out.â At least there wasnât some kind of dispute here, which was what heâd been more worried about than anything. With a polite nod to both men, he turned to continue on his way out.
"Yes, we'll... keep an eye out." Vesryn left the one-eyed young man a bit awkwardly and with hurried steps caught up with Leon, falling into step beside him. "You know, the talking ram thing might not be entirely out of the question. If that poor kid isn't crazy, it probably means his ram is... well, quite possessed. By a demon." He waved his hands about a bit theatrically, looking back to make sure they were out of earshot, and also out of line of sight. "Stepping out of town for anything in particular?"
The Seeker contemplated that for a moment, then grimaced. âI was rather hoping he was one of those superstitious kinds. Sometimes, folk have their animals give portents by means of bones or special wooden tokens, that kind of thing.â It was more common in less well-populated areas, those where the Chant had not reached quite as deeply into hearts and minds, in part because it was drawn from an old Chasind practice. But then, arguably a possessed animal that actually spoke was quite possible as well. In any case, they would find out if they happened upon the creature, and probably not otherwise. While under ordinary circumstances, that was the kind of rumor heâd have to chase down, Leon had considerably larger matters to attend to at this point.
âAs for why Iâm out in the first placeâŠâ he paused a moment, then decided it probably wasnât any harm to divulge, though he did lower his voice so that it would not carry any further than necessary. âEstella left Redcliffe sans escort. Apparently, she was not of the opinion that the Inquisition is too busy to be carrying flowers to someoneâs grave by request.â His tone indicated that he was actually a bit unsure how he felt about that, because he was. Approaching the gate, he waved up at the woman posted there, who saluted back and began to turn the crank that would lift it to allow exit.
Vesryn laughed softly to himself, clearly using some effort to keep the sound from carrying. "Our Lady Herald isn't interested in delegating, clearly. It's, ah... admirable, if not exactly efficient."
Leon supposed that was as good a characterization as any. The two passed under the gate, which closed behind them with a clank, putting them out on the road back into the Hinterlands. Vesryn seemed to have decided heâd be going along as well, but Leon didnât mind any. The truth of the matter was, until this evening, there wasnât really much else to be doing, so there was no reason for him to refuse the company.
âDo you find that the Inquisitionâs what you expected, Vesryn?â The commander was genuinely curious. He supposed someone who volunteered might have had some idea what they were in for, but he doubted a great deal that the organizationâand more importantly, the people in itâwere really what most would first think.
"It's rather inclusive, isn't it?" Vesryn had drawn out his spear, as was his habit, while walking. He poked the bottom end of it regularly into the soft grass and dirt ahead of him. "Considering what it's up against, it's not surprising that it takes all sorts, but still. It was founded on orders of the Chantry's head, its armies are led by a Seeker, and its two greatest weapons are supposedly blessed by Andraste herself. Of course, they wouldn't be alive if a Qunari girl hadn't saved them. And you take elves, too, folk like me who have never spared a second thought for the Maker."
He shrugged, the lion's head on his shoulder bobbing up and down. "I suppose we're all just too focused on doing the right thing to be thinking about who's doing the right thing. In that sense, the Inquisition's exactly what I expected. Too busy plugging skyholes to spend time pointing fingers at one another."
That was slightly more crudely than Leon might have put it, but aside from half a choked laugh, he didnât give sign of it. His expression settled at a slight smile, actually, and he nodded. He supposed it was quite inclusive, in one sense. Certainly moreso than the Chantry itself generally was. Many of his compatriots would have seen that as a necessary evil, the reliance on Qunari and heathen elves. Leon had his reservations about it as well, but they didnât have anything to do with different physiologies or religious beliefs so much as the wide variance in personalities. In life, such a broad spectrum of people surrounding oneself was a blessing, he thought, but in an organization with a specific purpose like this⊠there were risks.
âAs long as the center holds, it will hopefully remain so,â he replied thoughtfully. He was not oblivious to the fact that much of the responsibility of ensuring that would be his, and it was daunting, but no moreso than heâd expected it to be. Flexing his hands under his gauntlets, Leon continued, broaching a subject he found himself curious about.
âSo where exactly is it that youâre from, Vesryn? Iâd think maybe here in Ferelden somewhere, from the accent, but Iâve been wrong before.â
"Denerim, born and bred," he said, with a hint of mock pride. "Until the late teens, at any rate. Arranged marriages have a way of driving rebellious children from their homes. I visit occasionally. I like to think my parents are proud, even if I never did a single thing they wished. I'm no Hero of Ferelden, swooping in save them from the Blight. She actually did that, by the way, my mother will tell you the story sometime. But, I've done some notable things here and there."
He turned his head, his lips quirked in that almost ever-present grin. "And you? Only the Chasind and the Avvar make men of your size around here, but none of them are half as handsome. You're an Anderfels man, aren't you?"
Leon snorted, and shook his head slightly. âYou know, most people manage to guess, but Iâm fairly certain thatâs not the logic they use to do it.â Usually it was something like his coloration or the slight guttural rasp on the edges of his bass. âBut yes, I was born not far outside Hossberg. As third children are really quite extraneous by any standard, I was given to the Chantry before arranged marriages became an issue, thankfully.â Which was good, because that thought was mildly terrifying, really.
âI went in expecting to be a lay brother in a monastery somewhere, leading a life of contemplation. I came out rather wishing I were, as it turns out.â He smiled good-naturedly, but the words were a little too true for the expression to be entirely free of discomfort. âAlas, being so tall made someone think Iâd make an excellent Templar one day, and then someone else thought Iâd be a good Seeker, and so here I am.â It was really remarkable how little of his fate had been of his own design, when he thought about it.
"I don't think I was supposed to be good at anything," Vesryn remarked, with no small amount of humor. "You should've seen me. I had far too much bone for a place with so little to eat. I ran away to the Brecilian Forest at eighteen, expecting to go back to Denerim in a few days. Turns out I didn't go back for several years."
He sighed lightly, as though enjoying the brief reflection. "Someone else clearly thought you'd make a good Commander. As far as I've seen, you've yet to prove them wrong."
âWell, itâs early days yet,â Leon replied with obvious humor of his own. âIâve still got time.â
Their trek eventually took them into Hafterâs Woods, whereupon they climbed the hill Donnelly had pointed out. Clearly, Estella was not expecting company, because she was humming to herself as they arrived, intently at work with what looked like some kind of cloth scrap, damp and slowly gaining a coat of dirt. Sheâd evidently been using it to clean a stone marker, at the foot of which sheâd laid half a dozen white lilies. The humming stopped as soon as Leonhardt intentionally stepped on a twig, which snapped under his weight and alerted her to their presence.
Looking up sharply from her work, Estella had moved her hand halfway to the hilt of her sword before recognition lit in her eyes, and she dropped her hand back down, using the other arm to swipe across her brow. Her eyes flickered back and forth between them, her face smoothing over into something impassive that imperfectly masked what might have been anxiety. âCommander? Vesryn? Um⊠I donât suppose you just happened to be taking a walk, did you?â
"Of course not," Vesryn said, gently. "I thought I'd say a few words. Perhaps they'll amount to something." Almost reverently, he laid down his spear, stepped over to the grave, and knelt down beside Estella. He settled his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. "Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas." The words spoken, he opened his eyes again, and carefully stood. He offered a hand down to Estella.
"We did come to walk back with you, however."
Leon maintained a respectful silence for the duration, bowing his head while Vesryn spoke, but upon the conclusion of what he supposed must be an elvish blessing of some sort, he nodded to confirm what the other man had said. âIt isnât wrong of you to want to do something like this,â he said, nodding to the stone marker, âbut I confess I do feel some concern upon hearing that youâve elected to do so by yourself.â He was careful in the way he said it, because his impression was that her confidence, little of it that there was, was quite delicate, and he worried he might shatter it if he spoke too carelessly.
Estella sighed, looking at the marker for a moment, and then nodded herself, accepting the hand up from Vesryn and using it to get back to her feet. âI know. I onlyâŠâ Her lips thinned with what he guessed was the effort to find the right words. âIt feels like if Iâd said anything, there would have been a bit too much of a production about it, is all. This seemed better to do⊠quietly.â
Though perhaps another would have pressed the point, Leon felt that his had been made clearly enough, and so he didnât push back on the matter, instead leading their trio back down the hill and towards the road. Seeking to change the topic somewhat, he said the first thing that came to him. âI donât suppose youâve seen a talking ram anywhere, have you?â
âA⊠what? Talking ram?â She didnât seem to be sure if he were serious or not.
âItâs a⊠bit of a story, apparently. Just, well, if you happen to spot any rams in general as weâre walking, let us know.â
Estella smiled at that, still looking a bit perplexed, but taking the odd request in stride. âSure, all right. The Inquisition: for all your delivery, exotic animal husbandry, and rift-closing needs, I suppose.â
âIâm sure it will look very good on all of our credentials, someday.â
âWell, you know⊠our troops are out there, and itâs not like sheâs never done anything by herself before.â Donnellyâs tone was a fraction defensive, and Leon held up a hand to show that he wasnât going to be making a big event of it. âIt was just flowers. Iâd have gone with her myself, but she said she needed the walk.â From the way he said it, it was a turn of phrase with a particular meaning for her, and though he sighed slightly, Leon nodded.
âAll right. Just⊠tell me what direction she went, and Iâll go get her myself.â Ordinarily, he wouldnâtâheâd take his cue from Estellaâs comrades and trust that sheâd be fine, but she wasnât just any member of the Inquisition, and he supposed he found it disconcerting that she seemed to be able to stumble upon trouble with such precision. Still, as long as she was fine, there wasnât any need to make a major production of this, and he could simply retrieve the Herald and escort her back, with no need to inform Marceline or, Maker forbid, Cyrus that sheâd left the village by herself.
Donnelly eased, his baleful expression shifting back into his usual good humor. âSure. Fellow said his wife was buried in Hafterâs Woods, on the hill.â The Lionsâ Lieutenant, long familiar with the area from his squadâs survey work, tapped the spot on the command tentâs map, and Leon made a mental note of it. âStelâs seen the map, too; sheâll know which route to take, so it shouldnât be hard to find her.â
Leon inclined his head a second time, and Donnelly snapped a brief salute before exiting the tent, leaving the Seeker to contemplate his armor. In the end, he chose to forgo it, layering his clothes with only a cloak, and applying leather gauntlets to his hands rather than the steel ones he used in heavier combat situations. Despite his disinclination to simply let the Herald wander about on her own, he wasnât really too worried about fighting anythingâhe knew the troops were proud of the work theyâd done clearing out the place, even the fort to the south. There would still be stragglers, though.
Pulling up the flap on the command tent, Leon ducked under it and headed out. Since Donnelly was technically second-in-command of the squads here, there wasnât a particular need to inform anyone else specifically of where he was going, and he elected for discretion in this case and didnât.
He was well on his way to the gate when he came upon a scene he wasnât sure he would have expected: Vesryn was apparently in conversation with one of the locals, who had what looked like a very distraught expression for some reason. They were standing next to what appeared to be a fenced-in yard, as one would use to pen medium-sized animals. His brows furrowed, Leon diverted from his initial path and approached. Probably best to make sure there wasnât a dispute or something, though he had a hard time imagining Vesryn causing something of the kind.
âIs everything all right here?â he inquired, using the mildest tone in his repertoire, which usually went some distance toward mitigating the fact that he looked the way he did.
The elf turned, smiling a bit awkwardly. "Ah, yes, young James here was just explaining a situation to me regarding his missing ram, what was the name?" He titled his head sideways. The man, with blonde hair halfway covering a rather clearly missing eye, jumped at the chance to enter the conversation.
"Lord Woolsly, sers. A most special ram. He wandered off, you see, as he sometimes does. If he were to be found I'd be most grateful." Vesryn crossed his arms, tracing the toe of his boot absently through the dirt and nodding.
"Of course. But... you do know the Inquisition might be a bit preoccupied to chase lost rams? What makes yours so special anyway?"
"Well, he's always brought the family luck," he said, without any hesitation, "and his advice has helped us make our fortune." Vesryn quirked an eyebrow at him, before glancing over at Leon.
Admittedly, it took Leon a second to make sense of that claim. Vesrynâs point about preoccupation was quite a good one, but at least partly moot, since he was headed out of Redcliffe at the moment anyway, and the commander sighed. âWell⊠I canât promise anything, but since Iâm leaving for a bit regardless, Iâll keep an eye out.â At least there wasnât some kind of dispute here, which was what heâd been more worried about than anything. With a polite nod to both men, he turned to continue on his way out.
"Yes, we'll... keep an eye out." Vesryn left the one-eyed young man a bit awkwardly and with hurried steps caught up with Leon, falling into step beside him. "You know, the talking ram thing might not be entirely out of the question. If that poor kid isn't crazy, it probably means his ram is... well, quite possessed. By a demon." He waved his hands about a bit theatrically, looking back to make sure they were out of earshot, and also out of line of sight. "Stepping out of town for anything in particular?"
The Seeker contemplated that for a moment, then grimaced. âI was rather hoping he was one of those superstitious kinds. Sometimes, folk have their animals give portents by means of bones or special wooden tokens, that kind of thing.â It was more common in less well-populated areas, those where the Chant had not reached quite as deeply into hearts and minds, in part because it was drawn from an old Chasind practice. But then, arguably a possessed animal that actually spoke was quite possible as well. In any case, they would find out if they happened upon the creature, and probably not otherwise. While under ordinary circumstances, that was the kind of rumor heâd have to chase down, Leon had considerably larger matters to attend to at this point.
âAs for why Iâm out in the first placeâŠâ he paused a moment, then decided it probably wasnât any harm to divulge, though he did lower his voice so that it would not carry any further than necessary. âEstella left Redcliffe sans escort. Apparently, she was not of the opinion that the Inquisition is too busy to be carrying flowers to someoneâs grave by request.â His tone indicated that he was actually a bit unsure how he felt about that, because he was. Approaching the gate, he waved up at the woman posted there, who saluted back and began to turn the crank that would lift it to allow exit.
Vesryn laughed softly to himself, clearly using some effort to keep the sound from carrying. "Our Lady Herald isn't interested in delegating, clearly. It's, ah... admirable, if not exactly efficient."
Leon supposed that was as good a characterization as any. The two passed under the gate, which closed behind them with a clank, putting them out on the road back into the Hinterlands. Vesryn seemed to have decided heâd be going along as well, but Leon didnât mind any. The truth of the matter was, until this evening, there wasnât really much else to be doing, so there was no reason for him to refuse the company.
âDo you find that the Inquisitionâs what you expected, Vesryn?â The commander was genuinely curious. He supposed someone who volunteered might have had some idea what they were in for, but he doubted a great deal that the organizationâand more importantly, the people in itâwere really what most would first think.
"It's rather inclusive, isn't it?" Vesryn had drawn out his spear, as was his habit, while walking. He poked the bottom end of it regularly into the soft grass and dirt ahead of him. "Considering what it's up against, it's not surprising that it takes all sorts, but still. It was founded on orders of the Chantry's head, its armies are led by a Seeker, and its two greatest weapons are supposedly blessed by Andraste herself. Of course, they wouldn't be alive if a Qunari girl hadn't saved them. And you take elves, too, folk like me who have never spared a second thought for the Maker."
He shrugged, the lion's head on his shoulder bobbing up and down. "I suppose we're all just too focused on doing the right thing to be thinking about who's doing the right thing. In that sense, the Inquisition's exactly what I expected. Too busy plugging skyholes to spend time pointing fingers at one another."
That was slightly more crudely than Leon might have put it, but aside from half a choked laugh, he didnât give sign of it. His expression settled at a slight smile, actually, and he nodded. He supposed it was quite inclusive, in one sense. Certainly moreso than the Chantry itself generally was. Many of his compatriots would have seen that as a necessary evil, the reliance on Qunari and heathen elves. Leon had his reservations about it as well, but they didnât have anything to do with different physiologies or religious beliefs so much as the wide variance in personalities. In life, such a broad spectrum of people surrounding oneself was a blessing, he thought, but in an organization with a specific purpose like this⊠there were risks.
âAs long as the center holds, it will hopefully remain so,â he replied thoughtfully. He was not oblivious to the fact that much of the responsibility of ensuring that would be his, and it was daunting, but no moreso than heâd expected it to be. Flexing his hands under his gauntlets, Leon continued, broaching a subject he found himself curious about.
âSo where exactly is it that youâre from, Vesryn? Iâd think maybe here in Ferelden somewhere, from the accent, but Iâve been wrong before.â
"Denerim, born and bred," he said, with a hint of mock pride. "Until the late teens, at any rate. Arranged marriages have a way of driving rebellious children from their homes. I visit occasionally. I like to think my parents are proud, even if I never did a single thing they wished. I'm no Hero of Ferelden, swooping in save them from the Blight. She actually did that, by the way, my mother will tell you the story sometime. But, I've done some notable things here and there."
He turned his head, his lips quirked in that almost ever-present grin. "And you? Only the Chasind and the Avvar make men of your size around here, but none of them are half as handsome. You're an Anderfels man, aren't you?"
Leon snorted, and shook his head slightly. âYou know, most people manage to guess, but Iâm fairly certain thatâs not the logic they use to do it.â Usually it was something like his coloration or the slight guttural rasp on the edges of his bass. âBut yes, I was born not far outside Hossberg. As third children are really quite extraneous by any standard, I was given to the Chantry before arranged marriages became an issue, thankfully.â Which was good, because that thought was mildly terrifying, really.
âI went in expecting to be a lay brother in a monastery somewhere, leading a life of contemplation. I came out rather wishing I were, as it turns out.â He smiled good-naturedly, but the words were a little too true for the expression to be entirely free of discomfort. âAlas, being so tall made someone think Iâd make an excellent Templar one day, and then someone else thought Iâd be a good Seeker, and so here I am.â It was really remarkable how little of his fate had been of his own design, when he thought about it.
"I don't think I was supposed to be good at anything," Vesryn remarked, with no small amount of humor. "You should've seen me. I had far too much bone for a place with so little to eat. I ran away to the Brecilian Forest at eighteen, expecting to go back to Denerim in a few days. Turns out I didn't go back for several years."
He sighed lightly, as though enjoying the brief reflection. "Someone else clearly thought you'd make a good Commander. As far as I've seen, you've yet to prove them wrong."
âWell, itâs early days yet,â Leon replied with obvious humor of his own. âIâve still got time.â
Their trek eventually took them into Hafterâs Woods, whereupon they climbed the hill Donnelly had pointed out. Clearly, Estella was not expecting company, because she was humming to herself as they arrived, intently at work with what looked like some kind of cloth scrap, damp and slowly gaining a coat of dirt. Sheâd evidently been using it to clean a stone marker, at the foot of which sheâd laid half a dozen white lilies. The humming stopped as soon as Leonhardt intentionally stepped on a twig, which snapped under his weight and alerted her to their presence.
Looking up sharply from her work, Estella had moved her hand halfway to the hilt of her sword before recognition lit in her eyes, and she dropped her hand back down, using the other arm to swipe across her brow. Her eyes flickered back and forth between them, her face smoothing over into something impassive that imperfectly masked what might have been anxiety. âCommander? Vesryn? Um⊠I donât suppose you just happened to be taking a walk, did you?â
"Of course not," Vesryn said, gently. "I thought I'd say a few words. Perhaps they'll amount to something." Almost reverently, he laid down his spear, stepped over to the grave, and knelt down beside Estella. He settled his hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. "Hahren na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas. Souver'inan isala hamin. Vhenan him dor'felas. In uthenera na revas." The words spoken, he opened his eyes again, and carefully stood. He offered a hand down to Estella.
"We did come to walk back with you, however."
Leon maintained a respectful silence for the duration, bowing his head while Vesryn spoke, but upon the conclusion of what he supposed must be an elvish blessing of some sort, he nodded to confirm what the other man had said. âIt isnât wrong of you to want to do something like this,â he said, nodding to the stone marker, âbut I confess I do feel some concern upon hearing that youâve elected to do so by yourself.â He was careful in the way he said it, because his impression was that her confidence, little of it that there was, was quite delicate, and he worried he might shatter it if he spoke too carelessly.
Estella sighed, looking at the marker for a moment, and then nodded herself, accepting the hand up from Vesryn and using it to get back to her feet. âI know. I onlyâŠâ Her lips thinned with what he guessed was the effort to find the right words. âIt feels like if Iâd said anything, there would have been a bit too much of a production about it, is all. This seemed better to do⊠quietly.â
Though perhaps another would have pressed the point, Leon felt that his had been made clearly enough, and so he didnât push back on the matter, instead leading their trio back down the hill and towards the road. Seeking to change the topic somewhat, he said the first thing that came to him. âI donât suppose youâve seen a talking ram anywhere, have you?â
âA⊠what? Talking ram?â She didnât seem to be sure if he were serious or not.
âItâs a⊠bit of a story, apparently. Just, well, if you happen to spot any rams in general as weâre walking, let us know.â
Estella smiled at that, still looking a bit perplexed, but taking the odd request in stride. âSure, all right. The Inquisition: for all your delivery, exotic animal husbandry, and rift-closing needs, I suppose.â
âIâm sure it will look very good on all of our credentials, someday.â