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Since the Starkhaven templars arrived, they -- Cullen and Rylen -- have been working out of the viscount's old offices. Drinking and cards at night, business in the day. And now that Cullen's handed over his share of the operations, he's moved from the seneschal's office to the small, comfortable armchair and end table in the vestibule.

Ci sleeps at his feet. Cullen is going through the bookkeeping, one last time. Rylen and Merial know what they're doing, but the very least he can do is make sure the ledgers reconcile with each other and with the reports that have gone to the Spire for the last five years.

He might have forgotten to eat lunch? Whatever, numbers are great. And since he's in what he's now thinking of as his civilian uniform -- the armor he'd got from Wade and Herren in Amaranthine, with Ysalwen -- anybody looking for a templar just passes right over him. Cullen would be lying if he said he didn't find some satisfaction in that.

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"It is this way."

Cassandra nods to one of the city guard as she strides into the viscount's keep.

"Either that or the practice yard, but this seems more likely."

"He does love his spreadsheets."

The voice is Fereldan, and a little deeper than one might expect of someone her size -- mage or no.

The mabari at her side barks joyously. Twice.

Cullen, hello, hi! We found you!

They're ledgers! They're only spreadsheets in the mysterious second set of books that doesn't exist in the utterly normal book that Cullen has on him at all times.

That's --

Well. Ci knows who it is, and seems to be trying her best to show her excitement at Liranan's presence by tackling the older and much larger mabari to the ground.

Cullen, meanwhile, has just leaped to his feet in a state of panic!

"Ysa -- what -- you can't be here!" Cue Cullen looking back and forth from Ysalwen to Cassandra, quick and unsettled. "Was -- was this your idea?"

They'd talked before about whether Cassandra might get... ideas... about conscripting a former Circle mage who defeated an Archdemon.

Cullen made a promise.

"I see no reason why she cannot," Cassandra counters. "It was not that difficult a journey, and there was nothing to prevent it."

She seems pleased with something.

"And yes. It was." A hint of dry humor enters her tone. "Leliana has been encouraging me to practice social graces, after all."

"She's improving by leaps and bounds," Ysalwen agrees, mouth quirking at one corner, if just for a second.

Then, very seriously --

"Cassandra invited me to see this Inquisition of yours, and I accepted. It's a visit, that's all."

And again that faint, flickering smile is back.

"I wanted to see where you and Leliana worked. Even if it's not at all the same."

Edited 2016-06-15 03:45 (UTC)

"Kirkwall's awful," Cullen says bluntly.

He's paying no attention to Cassandra at all.

"Ysa, are you sure?"

The fact that Liranan isn't growling is a good sign, but still --

"I'm sure."

Something in her tone shifts, very slightly, and Liranan pulls himself away from Ci and turns into a mabari that is all business.

"Liranan would have ripped her throat out before she finished smiting me. We've been practicing."

"Maker's breath."

Now Cassandra is scowling at them both.

"Think you so little of me? You --" to Ysalwen "-- I understand, but --"

She makes a disgusted sound and crosses her arms over her chest, visibly annoyed.

(And if there's any hurt to be found there as well, she keeps that buried as deep as she can.)

Cullen draws himself up, gaze level and fixed on Cassandra, now.

"Consider it a compliment to your determination that we felt it advisable to make contingency plans." Cassandra is annoyed; Cullen is flat, implacable. "Ysalwen's done enough to help the cause of peace in Thedas. Or should I remind you of our first meeting? You know I had Kirkwall's mages evacuated when you had me frog-marched to your camp, yes?"

She meets his gaze with a white-hot glare.

"Yes. I did know. And I did not have you marched anywhere -- but this is pointless to argue here, now."

Cassandra is fuming, but still in control of herself.

"Thank you for your compliment. Shall I leave you two, then?"

Oh, for the love of --

"Enough, please."

Ysalwen's voice is level, and just loud enough to be heard. Liranan pads to her side, resting his head just where her hand can reach it. It helps.

"I don't actually mean to cause discord wherever I go, you know. It just seems to happen. So if -- "

Here's the deal: Cassandra has started carrying mabari treats, also known as bribes, with her to dispense as needed. And Ci, like all mabari, is a very smart dog. This is why she trots up to Cassandra and, with a very large smile and wagging tail, sits up to beg.

Cullen rolls his eyes, and sighs.

"Please stay, Cassandra. As you can see, your presence has been requested and wholly endorsed."

He bends to straighten the pile of reports on the side table, risking a glance at Cassandra. "I -- it's complicated. But I swore to Ysa, a while ago, that I'd -- safeguard her freedom. Given where we first came to know each other -- "

And given that Cassandra has worked to maintain the organization keeping mages in Circles for years --

" -- I hope you can understand my caution."

She takes a moment to pull a treat for Ci from the pouch at her belt, before anything else.

"You are a clever one, aren't you?"

(That's to the mabari.)

But then, Cassandra huffs out a sharp breath, and jerks her head in a nod.

"I understand. Considering... everything. And you would not be you, if you were not thinking around corners in advance of trouble."

To Ysalwen, then, she adds,

"Welcome to Kirkwall. Again."

Liranan makes a whining sound. He is clever, too!

Ysalwen, meanwhile, takes a breath and consciously relaxes.

"Thank you, Cullen."

Her smile is quick and crooked.

"And I thank you, too, Cassandra, for the welcome and for inviting me here at all."

She passes a quick look from one to the other, then --

"Is there anything I might help with? While I'm visiting, I mean. Since -- I'm likely not anywhere close to here at the moment. Given, well. Dalish."

Cullen glances at Liranan, and again to Cassandra. "You've hit on the best way to make friends with mabari, though I'm afraid that means they tend to demand equitable treatment."

His attention wanders to the ledgers... and to Ysa. "I'm -- not sure. Cassandra, did you have something in mind...?"

Surely if Cassandra went to the trouble of getting Ysalwen here, she has a plan? Otherwise it's cards and insisting that Ysa not wander the city alone.

"Of course they do."

It's mild, however, and she offers the remark as she gets out another treat for Liranan.

"Yes, you're a good mabari."

Her gaze narrows slightly as she considers Ysalwen and Cullen.

"I would not want to impose..."

Ysalwen huffs out a breath.

"Please let's not get into a war of politeness. I'm going to lose, and it will be embarrassing and awkward for everyone."

She flashes a smile, quick and crooked.

"If there's something I can help with, honestly, I'd be glad to. I'm a little -- hmm -- unable to help with Kirkwall at home, much, and it -- grates."

Though --

"The other option might be lightening the hearts of your troops via playing with mabari in public, which. Well."

Ysalwen would not lose a war of politeness. Cullen would. Intentionally. Flagrantly.

(As a general rule, Cullen does not care for surprises. This preference only solidified over the course of his adult life.)

"It would only stir up more anti-Fereldan resentment," Cullen says, dry. "So, again: Cassandra? Did you have something in mind?"

"Well. Yes."

She has never been spectacularly good at dissembling.

"Two things. One is - it is because of something that you said," she tells Ysalwen. "About setting an example."

"The other is something that I learned in ... talking," Cassandra settles on, realizing that she does not know if the other woman has any sort of connection to Varric Tethras in the world she is from. "To someone who knows this city well. There is a place, in Darktown. Or under it. And there is something wrong there."

Ysalwen's eyebrows head toward her hairline.

"Other than the usual disease and despair? Is it a weak point in the Fade? Because I can tell you I don't feel any darkspawn anywhere nearby."

"No. It is something different, I think."

Her glance goes to Cullen.

"It feels wrong, from what I am told."

And there are certain types of sensitivities that not everyone has, after all.

Cullen shrugs a little. "We don't patrol Darktown," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "The guard doesn't, either. The Veil is thin everywhere, around here. It would take something... notable, let's say, to stand out like that."

"Well. What are we standing around here for? Tell me more about it on the way."

Um.

"If you please."

Cullen snorts.

"If you can wait a moment, I might like to fetch my sword."

The sound Cassandra makes is suspiciously amused.

Ysalwen tsks.

"Nathaniel would never have been caught so unprepared."

Then she coughs.

"Wait, no, I take it back. He definitely would."

Already heading toward his quarters:

"Would you like to fill Cassandra in on the lengthy list of Nathaniel's faults which I've enumerated at length, beginning with that pox on his face?"

Horrible, horrible smug grin.

"Back in a moment."

Cassandra gives Ysalwen a curious look.

"Dare I ask?"

"He's my second. One of the Howes."

Ysalwen's mouth twitches.

"He came to Amaranthine to murder me and -- stayed as a Warden and my second. His choice in facial hair is a bit -- um. Suspect."

That's the first thing.

"Cullen's second least favorite thing about him is his early behavior in the training yard . . . . "

She can go on, and will. A ten minute diatribe reflecting Cullen's opinions is easy.

Edited 2016-06-24 03:55 (UTC)

"You didn't forget the part where he fraternizes within the ranks even though you don't do formal inspection, I hope?"

Cullen does not quite swagger back with his sword buckled on and his helmet under his arm (and a full arsenal of potions and a grenade or two on his belt).

But he does seem... rather cheerful.

"We leave at your word, Warden-Commander." And cheeky.

(Oh boy, they're going to stab something that probably doesn't have a family or dependents!)

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