"Add on a bottle of decent wine and you'd practically call me Orlesian." He crackles a low laugh, squinting at a fire pit to the east. It takes a bit of scrambling to get up the hill without slipping back into the mud- but there it is. The first of the crates.

"I have worked in Orlais quite a bit in the past few years. Lovely men, gorgeous women, half decent wine, excellent chocolate- too much butter in everything but the tiny cakes." Which could always use a little more, in Zevran's opinion.