Jahenna is polishing her armor by the entrance to camp. Fuck armor. Fuck armor, so much, forever, fucking armor, bullshit.

She's deputized Zann to make the Reverend Mother as uncomfortable as humanly possible, a task to which she has taken like, well, like an elven maleficar to fucking with the Chantry. This leaves Jahenna with free time to spend on reading, battle drills, and- oh for fuck's sake.

"My liege," nods Jahenna. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Just checking in. How goes it?"

"Just polishing my armor, sire."

"Excellent!" Cailan sits on a tree stump and starts- talking at her.


"Maker's breath, look who it is, my goodness, it's Duncan and some new recruit, I simply must go meet them so sorry to cut you off." Jahenna takes off at top speed, leaving Cailan in a cloud of thinning dust.

"Duncan. Maker, Andraste and all her fucking cousins be praised. His Majesty is trying to talk to me. He- Andraste's lacy underwear, he followed me. If you need me I'll be hiding in a river." She takes off again.

"Good day, Duncan!" hails Cailan. "I see you've a new recruit to your number! How goes it, friend?"