A level glance. She's as tired of this shit as he is; it's not what either of them were made for. Wren suspects that's exactly the point.
Dryly,
"It is not about the supplies, Ser Ashlock." She stoops low — the trouble of being nearly a head taller than most hereabout — squinting to compare the sketch to a rock on the horizon. "The war may be gone of these hills, but the people are not so quick to forget."
The Inquisition is a welcome presence. It brings money, supplies, stability. The remains of the Order? Less so. A short gesture upwards, to the dimming light.
"The innkeep will make most of his coin in the next few hours. He wanted us gone for them."
ii
Dryly,
"It is not about the supplies, Ser Ashlock." She stoops low — the trouble of being nearly a head taller than most hereabout — squinting to compare the sketch to a rock on the horizon. "The war may be gone of these hills, but the people are not so quick to forget."
The Inquisition is a welcome presence. It brings money, supplies, stability. The remains of the Order? Less so. A short gesture upwards, to the dimming light.
"The innkeep will make most of his coin in the next few hours. He wanted us gone for them."