Aimil Cousland no longer felt like a lady, even if her guardian continued to treat her as such. Her once glorious hair was cut short and ragged to hang around her ears, the sparkling eyes that hinted of her mother were dull and supported by dark bags. They had traveled for quite some time to get to Denerim, having stuck to the edges of the road and trusting no one, it had been almost unnecessarily long in her eyes. By this point, the stench of wet dogs and piss was almost familiar to her, and she stalked into the tavern as the best sell-sword she could act like.<br/><br/>The walls were dull and fading, the floor creaking and broken, it seemed hard times had begun. Aimil was taking in the dreary room when Valerius returned to her side. She thanked him with a small, half-smile and waved a hand for him to lead on.<br/><br/>There were a few scattered guests, a couple she recognized from her father's halls and feasts, some she only knew by the crests on their breasts. "Not much to plan," she said softly to Valerius, "Find him, kill him." There was venom in her tone, but she didn't dare raise her voice too loud, and not even a single head lifted from their drinks. At least here she wouldn't have to fear of eavesdroppers.