Elissa wiped the blood from her face, panting, and turned to face the last of the bandits, her longsword raised in readiness. He was close to her, his bulbous face spattered with blood, a vicious expression on his face as he raised a wicked looking dagger – but then suddenly, his face crumpled, and he slumped to his knees, revealing a grinning Zevran spinning his own two daggers triumphantly. "Seven!" he crowed, and she couldn't help but smirk.

"Seriously Zev, are you not over the 'let's count our kills' thing yet? It was only ever Oghren that cared! And where you got the idea from I will never know."
"A bit of healthy competition is always a good thing! And when you are beating a dwarf it is even better. Alas, I have to make do with you three humourless humans," the assassin replied in typical overly dramatic style, but his wink told her he was joking. Elissa wiped the worst of the blood from her blades and sheathed them, bending to investigate the body of the bandit Zevran had dropped. "Collect up any loot you can find, everyone. We'll take it back to the Chantry and maybe they can find the original owners,"
Zevran left her side to go and open a chest that Alistair had found, and Elissa continued to search the bodies on the ground.

"It is a good thing you are doing, you know," Leliana crouched down next to her, smiling. "The Maker will be pleased," She held open a small sack for Elissa to drop the items into.

"Well, it's not like we need to keep or sell any of it these days, is it. It's only right that we should try to get it back to the rightful owners. Although this amulet is very pretty..." she laughed as her friend tutted in mock disapproval, and dropped the amulet into the sack. Standing up, she looked around the area. Alistair and Zevran were dragging the remaining bodies into a pile. When they got back to the town, they would tell the authorities who could come and safely deal with them. "Alistair, you hair looks gorgeous!" she called to her husband, who was looking disapprovingly at himself in the reflection of a dagger. He made a face at her, and she stuck her tongue out back at him. "Right come on everyone, lets get back to the town,"

They were staying in a small Orlesian town, called Belforte, just a day or so's walk from Val Royeaux. Diplomatic visit to the Empress over, King Alistair and Queen Elissa had boarded their carriage in their finery and departed the capital, exiting the carriage a few miles down the road as Alistair and Ellie, dressed in their armour and with their packs on their backs. All of their 'royal' things were being taken back to Ferelden, neither of them fancying carrying around 3 days worth of courtly clothing around in a backpack. Val Royeaux had been much as Leliana had described, cosmopolitan and extravagant, but Elissa thought the countryside just as beautiful. Tiny farms and homesteads dotted the countryside, and flowers waved in the sunshine. She knew that she had always lived a privileged life, but sometimes she thought it must be nice to be one of the common people. Their surroundings were a huge contrast to the blighted landscape they had spent so much time in, and her heart fell as she thought of the reconstruction that awaited them at home. Alistair's nudge broke her from her thoughts, and she looked up at him. "Stop thinking about work!," he ordered, and she laughed at the way he had seen through her so easily.
"We really have to spend some time apart," she joked. "You're inside my head!"

Alistair grinned naughtily, and dropped an arm across her shoulders "That's not the only place I'd like to be inside...," he whispered in her ear, following up with a kiss to the neck, and she squirmed away laughing, eyes twinkling.
"Such a shame we are not camping tonight, we won't get to listen like we did during the blight," quipped Zevran, sprinting away chuckling as Alistair pretended to chase after him.

The chanter manning the board looked at them in awe as they dropped the sacks of loot at his feet. "Recovered items. From the bandit camp to the west," Alistair told him. "Unfortunately a peaceful conclusion was impossible, so the bodies are still there waiting to be disposed of. Could you make sure that this gets back to as many of the owners as possible?"

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just," the Chanter inclined his head to them, and picked their offerings to take inside.

"Right – lunchtime anyone?" Alistair's suggestion was interrupted by a young Chantry sister, who approached them tentatively.
"Ex - excuse me..., can you help?" she stuttered nervously, and Leliana smiled her encouragement at the girl.

"Of course we will help you , in any way we can! What is the problem?,"

"Well, it isn't me exactly," the girl began, tugging nervously at her robes and glancing back at the other sisters in the courtyard. "It's just that, there's a woman – she's had a job on the board for a while now, but nobody will help her because she can't pay a reward. The Chantry won't pay because she's an elf. You just seemed so generous, and you brought all those things back, I thought you might be able..."

"Of course we'll help," Elissa broke in. "Where can we find her?,"

The group approached the small bakery close to the outskirts of town. The shop was nicely presented, flowerboxes outside the door and a pretty curtain in the window, but the area was quiet and Elissa couldn't imagine there being many customers this far out. Alistair pushed the door open and they entered, their armoured bodies almost filling the space inside. An elven woman of around forty was behind the counter, and she raised her hands hurridly as they entered.

"I already paid the rent this month," she exclaimed "I don't owe anything! You thugs can just go back to Guillaume and tell him his tricks won't work on me..."
Elissa caught sight of a flash of movement in the back room of the shop. She studied the door for a few seconds, and then turned her attention back to the woman. The elf had short blonde hair, cropped closely at the back of her head but falling longer at the front. Her eyes were large, and unusually, a deep brown colour. She looked harried, and Elissa moved to reassure her. "We haven't come from... Guillaume?" she stumbled over the unfamilar name. "We were directed here by the Chantry. Are you – Elodie?"

The woman's eyes widened, and Elissa caught a glimpse of what looked like hope, or excitement in them, before she managed to control her emotions. "You have come to help me?"

"If we can," confirmed Alistair, "Sister Marianne said that you have been waiting for someone to take your job from the chanters board,"
The elven woman seemed to deflate. "I cannot pay you," she sighed, turning away to tidy a tray of pastries. "If you are not going to buy anything, you may as well leave. I must have been stupid, thinking that a troupe of human adventurers would help an elf. It's always the same,"
Zevran stepped forward out of Alistair's shadow, tipping back the hood he wore. "Less of the human, thank you very much," he quipped, grinning as the woman turned to look at him. "And speaking of elven prejudice, how exactly does an elf come to own and run her own shop?"

Elodie seemed to consider them once again, head tilted to one side. She was attractive, as most elves were, but an air of weariness pervaded her beauty. "It was my husband's shop," she answered eventually. "But he is no longer here. My customers enjoy my wares, and so I make just enough money to keep Guillaume off my back,"

"But very little more," stated Zevran, his eyes travelling over her threadbare clothing. "hence no reward for the chanters board,"

Elodie's eyes flashed in anger, but before she could say anything, Alistair stepped in. "Zevran... Madame – we came here to ask if we could help you. We do not want nor need a reward. We are willing to help you, if you will accept it,"

Elissa watched quietly. She had noted the movement in the back room again, but was watching Elodie carefully. Considering she had just been given an unconditional offer of help, she seemed strangely on edge. Admittedly, she had been insulted by Zevran – but in Elissa's experience, offers of help like theirs were rarely something to deliberate over. "Who is in the back room," she asked softly.

"It's my daughter. Marie, come here," The younger girl appeared next to her mother. She was around 15 – although Elissa was never sure with elves – and bore an uncanny resemblance to Elodie, the same blond hair and dark eyes. Elissa wondered at the unusual combination, but was taken from her thoughts at the woman's words. "I thank you. If you are offering to help me, then I would be grateful for your help,"