You must promise me at the outset to hold this letter in the closest secrecy--indeed, I am afraid I must ask for that most solemn of oaths. Swear to me on the statue of Andraste you kept in treasured place upon your bedside table before the Creature broke it that you will say nothing of this letter to Val without my most express permission. I cannot see your swearing, but I know you would not deny your oldest and dearest friend this rare request and so I shall continue on in faith that you have done as I have asked.
I shan't ask you to swear not to judge harshly what I am about to say, for I know that I deserve it, but I will ask you to try your best for mercy and understanding. Perhaps you might even share my feelings for a moment, though I know you are too good and pure a soul for it to last any longer than that.
Here is the news: our own Valentine has been named head of the Research division. He now commands all who do research for the Inquisition in Kirkwall, and several projects as well. It is happy news! We celebrated with a great deal of wine when it was announced, and sang triumphant songs, and even--you will be pleased to hear--said a brief prayer of thanks for the wise choice the Inquisition has made in choosing one of us. And yet.
And yet, I am ashamed to even put the word to paper, but I find myself envious. That is the truth, Jehan, and you have always counseled us to be more virtuous so I feel I must confess it honestly. At night after our celebrations, listening to V's terrible drunken and yet victorious snoring through the wall, I found myself cast into an abyss of ill-feeling and confusion. Why was he chosen, plucked alone from among us to be raised above us? Why not I? Why not all of us together?
And when I say 'raised above us', dear Jeannot, I mean it quite literally: in the hierarchy of the Inquisition, V is now above me. I have been given charge of a project, which I shall come to shortly, and that project falls beneath his supervision. I am to report to him. It is, again, a strange feeling. I am relieved to know that the man in whose hands the fate of my endeavors rests is one I trust most implicitly and respect most highly, who I can be sure shall never deny me anything I strongly believe needed. But on the other hand, I fear that this power may go to his head and we shall find ourselves at odds as we have never before been. You know how proud he becomes.
And already, Jeannot, he is befriending more elves (or perhaps merely strengthening his friendship with the same elf, I confess I have no idea, nor am I sure which is the more alarming possibility) and going about cultivating connections with Rifters, and encouraging Wardens to co-opt portions of my project without a word to me! I do not think he does it intentionally but he has never had good instincts when it comes to these sorts of alliances. He is too easily beguiled by the chance to thwart convention and court scandal. Not that the Inquisition seems to believe such things as scandalous as any would at home: they have made one of the Dalish elves the head of a division as well! Jeannot, a spy with a face tattoo. Tell me you have heard anything more ridiculous this week and I will owe you an entire magnum of the 9:31. I'm sure she's a perfectly nice girl, but hardly inconspicuous. I nearly choked on a grape in my laughter on first hearing.
And this brings me to my project. I have been placed in charge of research into the history of our adversary. A fascinating topic indeed, but not one in which I have any expertise. Which shall not stop me! And you know that too well to have feared that it might, so I shall continue onward to the part more alarming: the group so far is made up near-entirely of Wardens. I've no idea what to make of it, Jeannot. I should not have taken any of them for scholars. Can you picture Warden Alistair, lost prince of Ferelden, poring over tomes? Examining artifacts? I cringe at the very thought of his hambone fingers on scroll or scrap of pottery. They should be as likely thrown to his dog as properly cared for. And he is not even the strangest of the lot!
Among my new charges, Jeannot, is Anders, no not merely a lost denizen of that far-off wasteland happily escaped to places where sheep do not outnumber people and darkspawn do not outnumber books and regular dust-storms do not bury them all beyond counting anyway. No, I mean the Anders, who I had of course heard was about the Inquisition but that he has been brought to Kirkwall and now works with me is quite a surprise. Another surprise: he is a prat. And another is a strange boy named Alan who I think must either be a particularly patient and elaborate joke concocted by you and V--in which case very well done--or perhaps was raised among animals and has only just now discovered human society. I nearly said wolves, but there is nothing aggressive about him that I have seen thus far. Perhaps squirrels. He has apparently begun reorganizing the library by shape and color. I was horrified, but he is only a squirrel-boy and I could not bring myself to chide him too harshly. We shall have to see that the librarians stop him in the future. Perhaps we can set up a small fence and scatter a few acorns elsewhere to distract him.
I have filled page after page such that the envelope shall burst before it ever reaches you and still I have not asked a word after your family or your travels and for that I am most sorry. I hope that all have been well and went well, respectively as is appropriate. Give your family my love and your travels my attention in the sense that you ought to record anything of interest for later perusal and discussion. I await your return most eagerly, and have only not written before now because Val has been terribly jealous of his letters and will not let me add so much as a note, even when I offered to put my post-script on a separate sheet. And this before he was given power over you and I both! You see why I worry. But having shared my worries with you I find them now eased, simply in knowing that I shall have your advice and forgiveness on the matter.
Pray return to us soon, or I shall have to begin making threats to induce you as cajoling has not.
Love always, Freddie
PS: Please bring wine, for we have drunk a frightful percentage of our good stores in our despair over your loss, our joy over Valentine's appointment, and my recent struggles. It takes at least one bottle of wine per Warden I am forced to deal with. You should of course feel free to use my account, I believe the wineseller in Val Royeaux still has a few bottles of the 9:34 saved for me in his cellar. If you forget, inform me immediately so I might write myself and have a few crates delivered in haste. We shall most certainly need them. - F
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You must promise me at the outset to hold this letter in the closest secrecy--indeed, I am afraid I must ask for that most solemn of oaths. Swear to me on the statue of Andraste you kept in treasured place upon your bedside table before the Creature broke it that you will say nothing of this letter to Val without my most express permission. I cannot see your swearing, but I know you would not deny your oldest and dearest friend this rare request and so I shall continue on in faith that you have done as I have asked.
I shan't ask you to swear not to judge harshly what I am about to say, for I know that I deserve it, but I will ask you to try your best for mercy and understanding. Perhaps you might even share my feelings for a moment, though I know you are too good and pure a soul for it to last any longer than that.
Here is the news: our own Valentine has been named head of the Research division. He now commands all who do research for the Inquisition in Kirkwall, and several projects as well. It is happy news! We celebrated with a great deal of wine when it was announced, and sang triumphant songs, and even--you will be pleased to hear--said a brief prayer of thanks for the wise choice the Inquisition has made in choosing one of us. And yet.
And yet, I am ashamed to even put the word to paper, but I find myself envious. That is the truth, Jehan, and you have always counseled us to be more virtuous so I feel I must confess it honestly. At night after our celebrations, listening to V's terrible drunken and yet victorious snoring through the wall, I found myself cast into an abyss of ill-feeling and confusion. Why was he chosen, plucked alone from among us to be raised above us? Why not I? Why not all of us together?
And when I say 'raised above us', dear Jeannot, I mean it quite literally: in the hierarchy of the Inquisition, V is now above me. I have been given charge of a project, which I shall come to shortly, and that project falls beneath his supervision. I am to report to him. It is, again, a strange feeling. I am relieved to know that the man in whose hands the fate of my endeavors rests is one I trust most implicitly and respect most highly, who I can be sure shall never deny me anything I strongly believe needed. But on the other hand, I fear that this power may go to his head and we shall find ourselves at odds as we have never before been. You know how proud he becomes.
And already, Jeannot, he is befriending more elves (or perhaps merely strengthening his friendship with the same elf, I confess I have no idea, nor am I sure which is the more alarming possibility) and going about cultivating connections with Rifters, and encouraging Wardens to co-opt portions of my project without a word to me! I do not think he does it intentionally but he has never had good instincts when it comes to these sorts of alliances. He is too easily beguiled by the chance to thwart convention and court scandal. Not that the Inquisition seems to believe such things as scandalous as any would at home: they have made one of the Dalish elves the head of a division as well! Jeannot, a spy with a face tattoo. Tell me you have heard anything more ridiculous this week and I will owe you an entire magnum of the 9:31. I'm sure she's a perfectly nice girl, but hardly inconspicuous. I nearly choked on a grape in my laughter on first hearing.
And this brings me to my project. I have been placed in charge of research into the history of our adversary. A fascinating topic indeed, but not one in which I have any expertise. Which shall not stop me! And you know that too well to have feared that it might, so I shall continue onward to the part more alarming: the group so far is made up near-entirely of Wardens. I've no idea what to make of it, Jeannot. I should not have taken any of them for scholars. Can you picture Warden Alistair, lost prince of Ferelden, poring over tomes? Examining artifacts? I cringe at the very thought of his hambone fingers on scroll or scrap of pottery. They should be as likely thrown to his dog as properly cared for. And he is not even the strangest of the lot!
Among my new charges, Jeannot, is Anders, no not merely a lost denizen of that far-off wasteland happily escaped to places where sheep do not outnumber people and darkspawn do not outnumber books and regular dust-storms do not bury them all beyond counting anyway. No, I mean the Anders, who I had of course heard was about the Inquisition but that he has been brought to Kirkwall and now works with me is quite a surprise. Another surprise: he is a prat. And another is a strange boy named Alan who I think must either be a particularly patient and elaborate joke concocted by you and V--in which case very well done--or perhaps was raised among animals and has only just now discovered human society. I nearly said wolves, but there is nothing aggressive about him that I have seen thus far. Perhaps squirrels. He has apparently begun reorganizing the library by shape and color. I was horrified, but he is only a squirrel-boy and I could not bring myself to chide him too harshly. We shall have to see that the librarians stop him in the future. Perhaps we can set up a small fence and scatter a few acorns elsewhere to distract him.
I have filled page after page such that the envelope shall burst before it ever reaches you and still I have not asked a word after your family or your travels and for that I am most sorry. I hope that all have been well and went well, respectively as is appropriate. Give your family my love and your travels my attention in the sense that you ought to record anything of interest for later perusal and discussion. I await your return most eagerly, and have only not written before now because Val has been terribly jealous of his letters and will not let me add so much as a note, even when I offered to put my post-script on a separate sheet. And this before he was given power over you and I both! You see why I worry. But having shared my worries with you I find them now eased, simply in knowing that I shall have your advice and forgiveness on the matter.
Pray return to us soon, or I shall have to begin making threats to induce you as cajoling has not.
Love always,
Freddie
PS: Please bring wine, for we have drunk a frightful percentage of our good stores in our despair over your loss, our joy over Valentine's appointment, and my recent struggles. It takes at least one bottle of wine per Warden I am forced to deal with. You should of course feel free to use my account, I believe the wineseller in Val Royeaux still has a few bottles of the 9:34 saved for me in his cellar. If you forget, inform me immediately so I might write myself and have a few crates delivered in haste. We shall most certainly need them. - F