A/N I considered having Killeen actually play, but that seemed a bit 'the ensign who plays chess with Spock' — in the game, it's the Inquisitor, Companions and Advisers, we don't see Adan or Sutherland or whoever.

It was an important meeting of some sort — that much was clear by the attendees who'd been going in in ones or twos for most the last hour, the majority of the Inquisitor's companions and advisers — even if it was being held in the tavern and not the war-room.

Killeen hesitated outside the closed door, but the dispatch from Crestwood really could not wait. She knocked, knocked louder when there was no answer, and finally opened the door.

They were all sitting around the tavern's largest table, the Inquisitor, Lady Montilyet, Cullen, Varric, the Iron Bull, more.

She cleared her throat. "I beg pardon, sers," she said formally.

Cullen looked up, then pushed back from the table as if about to stand. "Well, it looks like you have enough people. I have a thousand things to do."

"Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming," Dorian said, and for the first time Killeen saw the cards on the table. "Give it a try."

Varric laughed. "Curly, if any man in history ever needed a hobby, it's you."

"I'm sure Kill can handle whatever it is," the Inquisitor said with a glance at Killeen that said make that true. "You've told me how capable she is." She smiled at him. "Or was that hyperbole?"

"She's entirely the equal of anything —" Cullen began.

The Inquisitor interpreted him. "Good. Then she can take care of whatever problem has brought her here. And you can decide whether you're going to raise or fold."

Cullen sank back into his seat. "Yes, of course."

"Sers," Killeen said, with a slight bow, and closed the door behind her.

Maker's balls, the Inquisitor wants to play cards for the day instead of working, and Cullen agrees instead of telling her how wrong she is?

That was unfair, and Killeen knew it was. Morale was work; turning a group of individuals into a team whose bonds of trust and familiarity let them anticipate moves and rely on decisions was part of the deadly serious business of preparation even if it was often best done through jokes and games.

It's no different from me playing kick-about keep-away with the squad of an afternoon.

Resolutely squashing the prickle of resentment at the Inquisitor's oh-so-clear dismissal — Off you go. He belongs to me, now — Killeen headed back to Cullen's office. The bandits in Crestwood needed more than merely one more patrol, but that would mean retasking a squad from somewhere else. Unless … Killeen scrawled a note to the eager young lad Sutherland who had persuaded the Inquisitor to outfit him and his friends, authorising him to raise militia from Crestwood village, signed Cullen's name to it, and sent it off.

Done. What's next?

Methodically, she worked through the piles of parchment and slates that littered the Commander's desk, noting troop movements and adjusting the disposal of other forces to compensate, sending requests for further information or authorisations for action.

Finally, the desk was clear, except for the neat stack of for information papers that Cullen would want to read himself.

Killeen looked up and realised it was almost dark.

She lit candles and occupied herself tidying up Cullen's shelves, telling herself she wasn't listening for the sound of his returning footsteps.

When she did hear someone on the stairs, it was not his familiar footfall, but someone far lighter. Killeen was not entirely surprised when the door opened to reveal Fel.

"How was school?" she asked.

Fel made a face. "Boring," she said. "All about where you find veridium and stuff."

"I'm sorry you find sourcing essential resources boring, Fel," Killeen said mildly. "I guess you won't want to help the Commander and me with the regional requisitions tomorrow, then."

"Not boring exactly," Fel said hastily. "Just, it took a long time and Adan had to go over it all lots and lots for the dumb kids. I learned it straight away."

"Well, good," Killeen said. "But don't call them dumb. Some people learn slower than others, or are good at different things."

Fel frowned. "You call people names," she pointed out. "I heard you in the training yard yesterday. You called those new soldiers some really good names."

"They're recruits," Killeen said. "It's my job to call them names. Once they're soldiers, I'll stop."

"Oh," Fel said, and Killeen could almost see her filing that away for later consideration. 'And —"

"Shouldn't you be at dinner?" Killeen interrupted quickly.

"Yes!" Fel said. "But the Commander asked me to get his clothes, first."

Killeen blinked. "To get his clothes?" she asked.

"Yes! He's in the bushes behind the tavern and he called out when I went past and asked me to run up here and get his clothes, quick." Fel paused. "And not to tell anyone. But you don't count, right?"

"Definitely right," Killeen assured her. "I'll get them for him. You go on and eat."

Grabbing shirt and breeches from Cullen's chest in the loft, she jogged down the stairs and around the back of the tavern. "Cullen?" she said quietly.

Leaves rustled. "Yes. I, uh."

Killeen tossed the clothes in his direction, resisting the temptation to try and peer through the screening shrubbery. "Lost your shirt?"

"And everything else," Cullen said wryly. "Apparently betting against an Antivan is a very bad idea."

"Cullen, you playing Wicked Grace is a very bad idea," Killeen said. "Even Fel bluffs better than you do."

"It was Varric's bad idea," Cullen said, stepping into view, now decently clothed. "And now I shall have to beg Lady Montilyet for my cloak and armour back. I'm sure she'll enjoy it immensely."

"Please tell me at least you had a decent hand," Killeen said.

"I had a hand of four," Cullen said with dignity, beginning to stride toward the stairs.

Killeen kept pace. "Four what?"

"Ducks."

"You went all in on four ducks?" Killeen said incredulously.

"I was sure she was bluffing."

"Maker give me strength," Killeen said. "Of all the soldiers in all the world, I happen to work for the one who thinks four ducks is a winning hand." She paused. "On the other hand, I suddenly see an opportunity to increase my income. I've got a set of cards somewhere, we could …"

Cullen laughed. "I may be foolish enough to bet against an Antivan," he said, opening the door to his office, "but I'm not foolish enough to bet against you. Had dinner?"

"Not yet," Killeen said.

"Fetch us both a bowl, then, and you can fill me in on whatever fires you've had to put out today."

"Your whim is my command, ser," Killeen said. She turned toward the door, turned back: "Look on the bright side?"

Cullen was already pulling the stack of parchments toward him. "Bright side of public humiliation?"

"Bright side," Killeen said firmly. "Now you can stop wearing that ridiculous cloak without having to admit I was right all along."

Deftly, she shut the door on his response, and headed toward the mess hall, shaking her head.

Four ducks. Of course he went all in on four ducks.

Good thing Corypheus doesn't know how hard our military commander will bluff on a weak hand.