Talk, drinking, and waving swords around. Much of it's the same. Nobles hide behind assassin blades or poisoned cups and leave the dirty work to the bards.

[ She remembers Marjolaine. Cunning and ruthless, and Leliana has learned so much from her. Neria can see it now even if Leliana would deny it; Marjolaine taught her to be a great bard even if it is Leliana who taught herself to be a better person. She has never seen Orlesians work so diligently as she has seen bards move, save, perhaps, for Briala, Celene, and Gaspard. But the world might be ending and their motives are clear. The Comte is a small fish in comparison to the frustrating night in Halamshiral. ]

He's probably hoping we'll send a letter back or, perhaps, that the Inquisitor herself will appear for him to ingratiate himself. She'd probably laugh at him, too.

[ Brushing off her hands from the ash within them, she turns back to Cullen as he sets his board upon the table. She goes to join him, reaching for his elbow unconsciously as she looks over his reports. ]

A few days and he'll crumble, one way or another. He'll either go running back to weep about his losses or strike in earnest, and we'll be there to meet him. Still...at this point, I wager he'll cut his losses and run.

[ At least until he can get proper reinforcements for the area. She sighs and gives Cullen a sideways smile. ]

And then we'll be here even longer to ensure he doesn't come back once you and I return to Skyhold.