Eostre sat at her desk, studying one of the many books that sat in her personal library. Since becoming Inquisitor, she had been given an incredibly lavish bedroom where she could spend some much-needed time to herself.

A knock at the door roused her from her study.

"It's open."

From her desk, she had ample view of the staircase, so she didn't need to get up. A smile light up her face upon seeing Josephine, who had her hands behind her back.

"Inquisitor," Josephine began, only to be met by an unpleasant look.

"Josephine, we have been over this. Regardless of how many titles I am granted, you must not stand on ceremony. I can't stand it, I never could."

"Forgive me, Eostre."

An affectionate smile covered Eostre's lips, "there is nothing to forgive. You are a Noble Daughter of a Noble House; we are taught how to greet people from birth. But you are my friend, and friends never use titles."

Josephine returned the smile. She had grown very fond of Eostre and was delighted to be considered a friend.

"Well, Eostre, we have received several letters from those wishing to join the Inquisition."

"And you are the one to deal with those requests on my behalf. You are much better with words than I am."

"Yes, normally I would. But" Josephine pulled her hands from behind her back, revealing a slightly crumpled envelope, "this letter came, addressed to you personally, and by your full name."

Josephine laid the envelope down upon the opened book. Eostre's eyes focused on the envelope, seeing a familiar wax seal.

She gently picked up the envelope and flipped it over; her face lighting up upon seeing the horrendous penmanship. She gently opened the envelope and carefully read the contents, trying to contain her glee. And failing. Badly.

Dear Eossie,

So, it's Inquisitor now, is it? That's a long way from being a little runt of a thing that used to chase after me with those little wooden daggers.

I thought it best to reach out to you. I should have done it a lot sooner, but you were a bit more difficult to track down. Hopefully, now, you'll stay in one place so I can regularly annoy you with letters!

I heard about what happened with some of the Templars. Red Lyrium? Sounds nasty. I'm on leave so back at home with mother and father, and Great Aunt Lucille. They're all very proud of you.

Philliam is here too. He's … well, he's Philliam. Apparently, he's going to write a play or a song or a poem or something about you. So, if you hear some godawful thing come out mentioning you, it's his.

Word is that the might Inquisition is looking for recruits and well, with the Templars being in shambles, I thought why not ask the Inquisitor if she can stand having her big brother hanging about.

I love you very much Eossie.

Your Brother,

Godric.

"Godric's handwriting has somehow gotten worse," Eostre broke into a light laugh. "He has asked if he can join the Inquisition."

"Shall I write him your answer?"

"No. I think it best that he hears from me directly."

Josephine couldn't help but notice a tear slowly falling down Eostre's cheek.

"After Val Royeaux and Therinfal Redoubt, I was petrified that he had would have succumbed to red lyrium like so many others. I read through all of the reports and not a single mention of him anywhere."

She wiped a tear from her cheek. "I would much rather keep my family as safe as possible. No doubt Godric might be offended by my rejection, but I hope, I pray, he understands my reasons."

Josephine moved closer to Eostre, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure he will understand."

Dear Goddy,

How is it possible for your handwriting to get even worse? Didn't they teach you how to write as part of your Templar training?

I don't think you could fully understand how much of a relief it was to receive your letter. I have been reviewing every report that we have received about the Red Templars, just encase I came across Knight-Lieutenant Trevelyan amongst the dead.

But knowing that you are both alive and untainted brings me unending joy, and hearing that Philliam is composing work about me, unending terror. It's not going to rhyme, is it? You know he can't rhyme!

Regarding your request, I am unfortunately going to have to deny it on the grounds of not wishing anyone in my family to come to harm. What we are up against is like nothing we would have been taught or anything you would have faced before.

Losing any member of our family would be devastating to me. I hope you can understand.

With all the love in my heart.

The Little Runt,

Eossie.