Sometimes, when he was using the anchor to close a fade rift, Adaar would find himself flanked on all sides by raging demons trying to kill him. That was only slightly more intimidating that the situation he currently found himself in – encircled by Josephine, Madame de Fer, and Lord Abernache - each one of them silently looking him over and making no attempt to conceal their concern.
"Are any of you going to tell me why I;ve been summoned to Josephine's office?"
They exchanged glances until finally, Vivienne spoke,
"We are going to prepare you for the Winter Palace." Nothing in her voice gave the impression he was going to have any choice in anything that happen in the next few hours.
Josephine, ever the diplomat, continued,
"Inquisitor, you are used to fighting demons, darkspawn, but -,"
Abernache cut her off, " – but when we show up at the Winter Palace led by an Ox, the nobles will eat us alive."
Josephine looked apologetic for the man's bluntness but it didn't escape Adaar's attention that she did not appear to disagree with the man's point. Then again, neither did he. Granted, as a mage, he was somewhat desensitised to a lot of the magical weirdness they encountered but dealing with the delicate sensibilities of the nobles was still one of the strangest parts of his job. A world in which a fashion faux pas could offend severely enough to provoke a dual to the death could not be further removed from his former life as a Vashoth mercenary.
"Alright." he said, "What do we do?"
"No need to sound so afraid, my dear," Vivienne reassured him, "You have at your disposal, three exemplary players of The Game. The Game is a carefully engineered labyrinth, designed to trip up any outsider who dares attempted to infiltrate it. Yet, infiltration is possible – the Ambassador and I are proof of that."
As Vivienne spoke, Josephine walked over to her desk and produced an alarmingly thick file from her draw. He had no idea when they'd had time to put all of that together.
"This should cover the essentials." she said, "We'll begin with noble rankings and proper terms of address."
Adaar took off his overcoat and laid it down on a chair. He could do this. He enjoyed reading history books in his spare time so he had a head start on some Orelsian history – surely that would be useful? He took a deep breath, "Let's get started then."
The next few hours passed in a haze of information on impenetrably intricate social customs and rituals. To their credit, Josephine and Vivienne had been exceptionally patient with him. They both seemed to be enjoying having a captive audience to impart their wisdom to. Adaar wondered if it had something to do with neither of them actually being from Orlais that helped them understand how to break down and explain The Game, after all, they had both had to learn it themselves. Something which Adaar was becoming more and more impressed by the more they explained. He'd know they were both formidable in their own ways but he realised now he only understood a fraction of their expertise.
Lord Abernache, on the other hand, was finding their endeavour significantly more trying. At one point, when Adaar had, for the third time, mistakenly referred to Comte du Lancent as 'Viscomte du Lancent' – Abernache had briefly excused himself, stepped outside, and proceeded to let out a scream of frustration.
"I think the problem is," Vivienne mused, "you can get the facts right but you still don't understand how to use them to play The Game."
Josephine nodded in agreement, "Lady Vivienne is right. For example, how would you respond if someone offered you an Anders vintage wine?"
He thought for a moment - surely, he could work this out. Was refusing a drink impolite? Or – he suddenly recalled hearing Vivienne and Dorian complaining about how awful Anders wine was.
"I'd say 'How dare you!'." He felt quite pleased with himself for figuring it out – until Vivienne sighed and he saw Josephine shaking her head.
"Wrong." Abernache barked, "That would likely get you killed." Adaar was confused,
"I thought Anders wine was bad – so, wouldn't offering it to me be insulting?"
"It would." Vivienne agreed, "However the correct response would be to laugh as though they'd just told you a joke. Then say something like, 'surely you can't be suggesting the Empress would serve an Anders vintage?'."
"That way," Josephine continued, "they cannot say one more word on the matter without openly insulting the Empress."
"And you might stand a chance of getting a decent drink," finished Abernache.
The Inquisitor nodded, thinking for the first time he was starting to get it and also certain he could feel the beginnings of a headache.
"I think that about covers that." Josephine declared as she scribbled some notes to acknowledge the Inquisitor had completed the 'Customs' section of her file and now possessed enough knowledge to converse with an Orlesian noble without saying something so deeply offensive he'd get himself stabbed with a dining fork. They had even gotten through the rest of the section without Abernache needing any more cathartic screaming breaks.
"Thank the Maker. So – we're done?"
The three of them cackled in unison. Josephine managed to compose herself first,
"Not quite, Your Worship. We still have to go over culture. What's playing at Val Royeaux theatre, which books are in fashion – that sort of thing."
"The theatre? I'm leading the Inquisition, when exactly am I supposed to have had time to catch a show?"
"We just need to cover the basics – for purposes of small talk, you understand?"
"Ambassador, I am not so uncivilised that I have never read a book."
Vivienne let out a disapproving sigh, "No one was suggesting you were illiterate, my dear. However, you are from Ostwick – the height of your culture involves chasing a large wheel of sweaty cheese down a hill."
The Inquisitor grinned, "I won that once."
Vivienne did not look impressed.
"Fine," the Inquisitor realised any further arguments would just prolong the ordeal, "What is Orlais latest theatrical masterpiece that I have to pretend to have seen?"
"Death in the Mansion by Violette Armand."
"Sounds delightful." the Inquisitor huffed.
Adaar had always considered himself a man who appreciated fine art and literature. As a child he had loved reading stories full of adventure and melodrama. However, over the course of the last hour, he had come to the conclusion that he loathed cultural and all things related to it. He had tried to pay attention. He really had. And he did recognise that he needed to be prepared for the Winter Palace. Yet, he had a feeling the debate his three mentors had lapsed into over twenty minutes ago about which character in a serial named 'Callipygian Cuirassiers' was going to triumph – was not for his benefit. Nor did he see the political advantage of knowing someone named 'The Randy Dowager' awarded the aforementioned serial 'three scarves fluttered in shock out of five.'
He glanced down at Josephine's checklist of topics to cover. There was only one more listed beneath literature – dancing.
Deciding there was no way he was going to endure that sober – the Inquisitor took his chance to slip out and pay a quick visit to Cabot. He'd be back before they'd even finished arguing.