"Figure they advise each other, mostly. Inquisition does what it wants." For however long that lasts. "Cassandra Pentaghast's one of them, anyway. Nevarran."

He hums a little to himself, glances up. It’s close as he’ll come to a swoon. He's seen the drawings; lady's a dream of a scowl.

"Then the Nightingale," Probably the only Orlesian he won't insult. He likes to keep his skin. "And some Templar Marcher."

Tovias glances aside with a small shrug.

"Could walk out right now and no one'd stop you, I reckon. But it's a long walk, and they'll feed those that stick around."