"I think the best place to start is probably with thank-yous. Most of the office work I do is letters of some sort—Rilien, Leon, and Lady Marceline handle most of the ordinary operations, so what's left for us is really just the things that require a personal touch from an Inquisitor. It's... still a lot, but between us I think it won't be too much trouble." Estella stood from her desk chair, pulling a pile of unanswered communications a little closer to herself, flipping back the bottom halves to try and look for a familiar name.
She smiled when she came upon one, carefully sliding it out from the stack. "This one's from Lucien—it's a business communication about an incoming shipment of materials for those siege weapons we're building for Skyhold. Really all we have to do is send him an acknowledgment that we received them and a thanks for the generous donation." She handed the letter itself over to Romulus, letting her hands fall back to rest on the surface of the desk.
"Oh, I'll just... write to the Emperor, then." He took the letter, eyes passing quickly over the text. "No big deal." For someone raised as a slave, he was an efficient reader, and never seemed to have difficulty even when the handwriting wasn't exactly clear. Writing, however, was obviously not his strength. He had to focus to achieve a level of handwriting beyond that of a sloppy adolescent, and his speed left something to be desired. But it made sense that his life hadn't led him to pen many letters of any kind.
His comment about Lucien seemed to be in jest, as he'd interacted with him enough to know that the man was perhaps the least concerned with formality of anyone in the pile. Still, he paused to think carefully about what to write, and how to properly address and begin the letter as he'd been instructed. It wasn't an ideal situation of shared working space, but it was better than trying to deliver some of the paperwork down to Romulus's residence, which was far more out of the way in Skyhold than Estella's. They'd have to figure something out eventually, if Romulus wanted to keep helping.
"I'm going to be honest," he said, perhaps halfway through his reply, "I feel terrible I've let you do all this the whole time. It's really boring."
Estella laughed. "This is fine—just wait until you get to the ones where you have to prod people for things they promised they'd do but haven't done yet." She only had to halfway-feign her shudder, honestly.
Still, she could sort of understand why they were only getting to the point of splitting this work now, and she didn't begrudge him for it. While Romulus had escaped this particular burden for several years, it had also been true in that time that she'd had the benefits as well as the drawbacks of being more recognizable as Inquisitor than him. Not that she always saw them as benefits, but she was learning to appreciate them. Kind of. At least enough to want to share them as well as the workload.
Laying aside her own letter, she retrieved an envelope from the desk drawer, as well as a tube of sienna-colored wax and the Inquisition's seal to stamp it with. "I think it helps, at least. If no one did it, we wouldn't be able to stay supplied and all that. I try to tell myself that when I'm falling asleep over the parchments."
He smiled a little at that, before returning his focus to the letter. They worked diligently, the sounds filtering in from the main hall enough to prevent total silence from ever blanketing the room, the only sounds they added being the scratching of quills, folding of papers, and stamping of wax. Estella worked significantly faster than he did, but that was to be expected.
Romulus stamped the letter before him with the official seal once he was done with, sliding it to the side. He glanced at the pile still to go through, but instead replaced his quill in the inkwell and leaned back more comfortably in his seat. "I wonder how long they'll want to supply us. After this threat's been dealt with."
A breath passed through her nose, slow and deliberate. "I've been wondering the same," she confessed. Her finger absently ran the edge of the parchment she was working on. "And I guess about... what will happen to this in general."
The Inquisition had been assembled for a very specific purpose, after all: to close the Breach. That they still had a reason to exist was still tied to that: Corypheus was responsible for it, and would be responsible for worse if left unchecked. But what became of them when Corypheus was also gone? It wasn't as though there were further layers behind this than him—at least not any that they'd seen the first hint of.
"It's strange... I'm not quite sure what to think about it. Defeating him, finally." She shook her head, braid dragging slightly where it rested at her back. "Obviously I want to, but... what then, you know?"
"I think I've tried not to think about that much," he answered, threading his fingers together in his lap. "I'm not sure what I'd be, what I'd do, without this, without being an Inquisitor. I know I could do a lot of things, but I don't know that I have any kind of cause I want to push for." No doubt he was thinking of Khari when he said that. Her goals were something larger and separate from what the Inquisition was trying to do, something she could easily continue to work towards after Corypheus was gone.
"But the Inquisition is bigger than me, or any of us," he continued. "I've never been very good at thinking of the bigger picture."
"I don't know if I could go back." Estella furrowed her brows, studying him with troubled eyes. Obviously he wouldn't be going back to the life he'd had before the Inquisition, but they still seemed to share the problem. "This just feels... it's going to sound so stupid when I say this—but it feels like this is what I was... meant for. Or something. And it's home."
She could see it so clearly: everyone parting ways at the end of it, never to be all together in the same place again. Never to have anything binding them all together the way they did now. The knots loosening, the people scattering to the winds, making new lives. She was afraid of the vision coming to pass. Nothing had ever felt as right to her as being here and doing this did, even when it seemed laughably impossible. Plenty of the others had places to go, goals to accomplish, lives yet to live, but Estella couldn't help but feel that this was it for her: this was the thing her life had really been about all along.
How was she supposed to go about things when it was done?
"Maybe I'm just trying to rationalize, but I really feel like there are things we could be good for, even after Corypheus. I don't know."
"Hopefully nothing we're needed for," Romulus said, with a hint of a smile. "One world-threatening catastrophe has been bad enough." It would be a special kind of bad luck for anything matching the Venatori, Red Templars, and Corypheus at their head to spring up again. At least Blights had Grey Wardens to tend to them. Assuming their Order survived the turmoil it was no doubt in after the disaster at Adamant Fortress.
"You say it sounds stupid, but I remember being the one to come to you at the beginning, in Haven, and telling you how I remembered your name from when we were children. I always wanted to believe there was something destined about this whole thing." It almost steered him wrong a few times, no doubt, and had allowed people wanting to take advantage of that to sink claws in before. "I'm not willing to say any kind of power was at work in it anymore, but I won't deny it feels right."
Obviously it had changed a great deal in him, almost certainly for the better. It was in the way he sat, the way he spoke to her, the way he'd offered to help, wanted to help. He was someone truly enjoying the way he was living now.
"Well, you won't have to be an Inquisitor by yourself any time soon, I can promise you that much. Not if I have anything to say about it."
She was glad of it. Privately, Estella thought the duties and obligations were far too many to be carried alone, even with the support of their advisors and friends. There wasn't a trace of doubt in her mind that if there hadn't been the both of them to do the job, it wouldn't have been done even this far.
"That's reassuring," she told him, some of the worry in her face easing as she smiled. "I'm sure there will come a time when we really do have to decide all the rest of this, but I'm quite glad it's not now." Now was for progress forward, not an impasse with an uncertain future. They'd come to that eventually.
And if she was already starting to consider the possibilities, to ask herself how they might get by without the largesse of noble donors, well—maybe that wasn't so bad, either.
She smiled when she came upon one, carefully sliding it out from the stack. "This one's from Lucien—it's a business communication about an incoming shipment of materials for those siege weapons we're building for Skyhold. Really all we have to do is send him an acknowledgment that we received them and a thanks for the generous donation." She handed the letter itself over to Romulus, letting her hands fall back to rest on the surface of the desk.
"Oh, I'll just... write to the Emperor, then." He took the letter, eyes passing quickly over the text. "No big deal." For someone raised as a slave, he was an efficient reader, and never seemed to have difficulty even when the handwriting wasn't exactly clear. Writing, however, was obviously not his strength. He had to focus to achieve a level of handwriting beyond that of a sloppy adolescent, and his speed left something to be desired. But it made sense that his life hadn't led him to pen many letters of any kind.
His comment about Lucien seemed to be in jest, as he'd interacted with him enough to know that the man was perhaps the least concerned with formality of anyone in the pile. Still, he paused to think carefully about what to write, and how to properly address and begin the letter as he'd been instructed. It wasn't an ideal situation of shared working space, but it was better than trying to deliver some of the paperwork down to Romulus's residence, which was far more out of the way in Skyhold than Estella's. They'd have to figure something out eventually, if Romulus wanted to keep helping.
"I'm going to be honest," he said, perhaps halfway through his reply, "I feel terrible I've let you do all this the whole time. It's really boring."
Estella laughed. "This is fine—just wait until you get to the ones where you have to prod people for things they promised they'd do but haven't done yet." She only had to halfway-feign her shudder, honestly.
Still, she could sort of understand why they were only getting to the point of splitting this work now, and she didn't begrudge him for it. While Romulus had escaped this particular burden for several years, it had also been true in that time that she'd had the benefits as well as the drawbacks of being more recognizable as Inquisitor than him. Not that she always saw them as benefits, but she was learning to appreciate them. Kind of. At least enough to want to share them as well as the workload.
Laying aside her own letter, she retrieved an envelope from the desk drawer, as well as a tube of sienna-colored wax and the Inquisition's seal to stamp it with. "I think it helps, at least. If no one did it, we wouldn't be able to stay supplied and all that. I try to tell myself that when I'm falling asleep over the parchments."
He smiled a little at that, before returning his focus to the letter. They worked diligently, the sounds filtering in from the main hall enough to prevent total silence from ever blanketing the room, the only sounds they added being the scratching of quills, folding of papers, and stamping of wax. Estella worked significantly faster than he did, but that was to be expected.
Romulus stamped the letter before him with the official seal once he was done with, sliding it to the side. He glanced at the pile still to go through, but instead replaced his quill in the inkwell and leaned back more comfortably in his seat. "I wonder how long they'll want to supply us. After this threat's been dealt with."
A breath passed through her nose, slow and deliberate. "I've been wondering the same," she confessed. Her finger absently ran the edge of the parchment she was working on. "And I guess about... what will happen to this in general."
The Inquisition had been assembled for a very specific purpose, after all: to close the Breach. That they still had a reason to exist was still tied to that: Corypheus was responsible for it, and would be responsible for worse if left unchecked. But what became of them when Corypheus was also gone? It wasn't as though there were further layers behind this than him—at least not any that they'd seen the first hint of.
"It's strange... I'm not quite sure what to think about it. Defeating him, finally." She shook her head, braid dragging slightly where it rested at her back. "Obviously I want to, but... what then, you know?"
"I think I've tried not to think about that much," he answered, threading his fingers together in his lap. "I'm not sure what I'd be, what I'd do, without this, without being an Inquisitor. I know I could do a lot of things, but I don't know that I have any kind of cause I want to push for." No doubt he was thinking of Khari when he said that. Her goals were something larger and separate from what the Inquisition was trying to do, something she could easily continue to work towards after Corypheus was gone.
"But the Inquisition is bigger than me, or any of us," he continued. "I've never been very good at thinking of the bigger picture."
"I don't know if I could go back." Estella furrowed her brows, studying him with troubled eyes. Obviously he wouldn't be going back to the life he'd had before the Inquisition, but they still seemed to share the problem. "This just feels... it's going to sound so stupid when I say this—but it feels like this is what I was... meant for. Or something. And it's home."
She could see it so clearly: everyone parting ways at the end of it, never to be all together in the same place again. Never to have anything binding them all together the way they did now. The knots loosening, the people scattering to the winds, making new lives. She was afraid of the vision coming to pass. Nothing had ever felt as right to her as being here and doing this did, even when it seemed laughably impossible. Plenty of the others had places to go, goals to accomplish, lives yet to live, but Estella couldn't help but feel that this was it for her: this was the thing her life had really been about all along.
How was she supposed to go about things when it was done?
"Maybe I'm just trying to rationalize, but I really feel like there are things we could be good for, even after Corypheus. I don't know."
"Hopefully nothing we're needed for," Romulus said, with a hint of a smile. "One world-threatening catastrophe has been bad enough." It would be a special kind of bad luck for anything matching the Venatori, Red Templars, and Corypheus at their head to spring up again. At least Blights had Grey Wardens to tend to them. Assuming their Order survived the turmoil it was no doubt in after the disaster at Adamant Fortress.
"You say it sounds stupid, but I remember being the one to come to you at the beginning, in Haven, and telling you how I remembered your name from when we were children. I always wanted to believe there was something destined about this whole thing." It almost steered him wrong a few times, no doubt, and had allowed people wanting to take advantage of that to sink claws in before. "I'm not willing to say any kind of power was at work in it anymore, but I won't deny it feels right."
Obviously it had changed a great deal in him, almost certainly for the better. It was in the way he sat, the way he spoke to her, the way he'd offered to help, wanted to help. He was someone truly enjoying the way he was living now.
"Well, you won't have to be an Inquisitor by yourself any time soon, I can promise you that much. Not if I have anything to say about it."
She was glad of it. Privately, Estella thought the duties and obligations were far too many to be carried alone, even with the support of their advisors and friends. There wasn't a trace of doubt in her mind that if there hadn't been the both of them to do the job, it wouldn't have been done even this far.
"That's reassuring," she told him, some of the worry in her face easing as she smiled. "I'm sure there will come a time when we really do have to decide all the rest of this, but I'm quite glad it's not now." Now was for progress forward, not an impasse with an uncertain future. They'd come to that eventually.
And if she was already starting to consider the possibilities, to ask herself how they might get by without the largesse of noble donors, well—maybe that wasn't so bad, either.