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It was the third ball they’d thrown this month, and Dea was sick of it. No one had ever mistaken her for charismatic or eloquent, and nobles seemed to be obsessed with the most insignificant and mundane things. Besides, they were in the middle of fighting a war, surely all funds they had should be focussed on that?
A commotion across the hall drew Dea’s attention away from her musings. A noble –Lord Kylre? Dea wasn’t sure- had imbibed too much alcohol and the metaphorical mask had been torn off. Thankfully for his role in the Great Game, his actual mask remained securely on his face.
“It’s –hic- shameful! The Inquisitor and that –hic- knife-ear!”
Dea clenched her fist and started towards him, only to have Josephine step in front of her.
“Inquisitor, please. I can understand your… concern, but causing a diplomatic incident will only create more problems.”
Before Dea could issue a comeback, one of the servers tripped, splattering wine across the front of Lord Kylre’s white tunic.
“Idiot!” He spluttered, as the server apologised and hurried away. Curious, Dea hung back and watched as several ‘accidents’ befell the word for the rest of his stay at Skyhold.