Spending the evening at the tavern helped distract me. After an awkward silence when we first entered, the patrons of the Singing Maiden returned to their meals and conversations. A few still turned their heads as we navigated the tables but for the most part I was happy that I wasn't as scrutinized as I was that morning.

Varric and I passed the time talking about his interrogation by Cassandra. When he told me of how he related Garrett's story, I snorted in disbelief.

"Really, Varric? No wonder Cassandra is pissed with you. It's not much better than what you wrote in your book. And really, really? You painted me as a she-demon who accompanied the Ostwick knight-commander as intimidation factor. At least, now I know why Cassandra was surprised that we knew each other."

"I had to be more creative with The Tale of the Champion," he admitted. "You know that enough shit happened without adding fodder to the fire. With the Chantry sniffing around, I had to."

I looked at him shrewdly. "You know where Garrett is, don't you?"

He wouldn't look straight at me. "He might have mentioned something about crossing but that was before the Conclave. I don't know where he is now."

"All right, keep your secrets. I'll know them soon enough."

The rest of the evening was devoted to the whereabouts of the rest of the gang. Merrill was looking after the elves in Kirkwall who was left homeless by the fighting. She was doing a good job of keeping them away from mages and templars so far. I actually got a letter from Fenris before I departed Ostwick for the Conclave. He was keeping busy, hunting down Tevinter slavers who came south to prey on the refugees of the war. He did not mention where he was. "Well, if you follow the trail of corpses then you'll find Broody," said Varric. Isabela, on the other hand, went back to the raiders. Not contented with captaincy, she was calling herself an admiral now. I have to include that particular tidbit in the letter home, though. Spare the Trevelyan ships. Aveline, meanwhile, was still guard-captain. Honestly, she was the only reason Kirkwall was still standing. Sebastian was angry after what happened with the Kirkwall Chantry and wouldn't talk to the rest of us. He left separately after that last night. He took up the mantle of Prince of Starkhaven.

With a stomach full of roast ram and a little tipsy from the piss shit Varric said was ale, I entered my cabin. Someone cleaned the hearth and added fresh wood to feed the fire, the warmth washing through the dwelling, chasing away the chill of spring thaw. What cheered me up more than the cozy fire was the small wooden tub full of bathwater waiting for me in front of the fireplace. I could kiss the person who made this happen. Oh look, soap and oils. I approached the tub and glided my fingers across the water. Perfect temperature. Without preamble, I shed my clothes and sank into the delicious embrace of my bath.

Even though I was relatively clean – and I don't want to spend time wondering who saw me naked and sponged me - there was nothing as relaxing as soaking your entire body and kneading your sore muscles until you languidly sigh and just lay back. But with the peace and quiet came the thoughts that was temporarily shoved to an overflowing compartment and now was free to roam around.

The Conclave. The Breach. The Inquisition. Her involvement in all that. Henry. Maxwell.

I wanted to stay in a corner with my face buried on my knees and just turn out the world. I wanted to say I'm tired. I wanted to run away back home, for real this time. Maker, I wanted to do those.

"This is but the beginning of everything," Isabela had said to me. The tensions between the mages and the templars were at the spilling point. Uncle Nikolai came to Kirkwall to mediate between Knight Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino. I was present during the talks and that conversation did not go well. I was frustrated with everyone and went to the Hanged Man to vent. "You best gear up and hold on to a tether. Grab your compass and don't lose sight of the horizon. Take a hold of your bearings, Kitten, shitstorm's heading this way."

First things first, a letter to papa. By now, he would have news of what happened at the Conclave. Cedric would have mustered the Trevelyan soldiers by now. While welcome, it would be overkill.

Second. Who the hell took my daggers AND my coin?

Ugh. I need to get a decent armor… and a change of clothes.

I got out of the tub and dried myself with the towel left out for me on the bed. Donning a robe –seriously, who did this? – I proceeded to take some writing materials left on the table and started to compose a letter.