Valerius knew his young charge's mind was abuzz with thoughts of revenge and murder, her heart heavy with loss and the feeling of defeat. He knew Aimil must have felt that way because it was how the old warrior himself felt, and he wasn't even related to the Couslands. The journey in and of itself had been difficult, let alone fleeing the estate whilst it was burning around them, crawling with Howe's soldiers. To the old veteran it felt like a slap in the face to every man that had died under his watch. They were good men, honorable men, and to have run like that..... Valerius swore Howe would pay somehow.<br/><br/>"I know the wait is.... painful. It's not what I would prefer to do either, My Lady, but you must understand that the situation calls for patience. You are right in that regard, that it would be us two versus an Army. Even if we could avenge your family, the political implications... even if we do manage to avoid death or imprisonment, as long as the pauper Loghain sits on the throne, you and your family name will be branded as traitors and exiles." said the older warrior, leaning forward. Removing a single scaled glove, he reached into his pack and pulled out four glittering golden Sovereigns, laying them on the table.<br/><br/>"My lady, this is all I have left of my time at the castle. When I signed on as your trainer and steward, I swore to your father and mother that I would keep you safe with my very life, that I would wade through the Fade itself if you so commanded. But you must trust me when I say we must keep a level head about us for the time being. We have to find allies, wherever we can, people that for one reason or another stand against the Teryn." he said softly.<br/><br/>Relaxing his posture in the seat, he pulled one leg over the other and turned with a soft smile to the waitress as she sat a mug of mead before him. With a bow, the young woman left, as Valerius took a sip of the refreshing honeyed beverage. "I met him, you know." he said, looking intently into his glass. "Duncan, that Gray Warden. An admirable and strong man if I ever met one. He was supposed to be scouting for potential Warden recruits at the castle before Howe's attack. He was supposed to be at Ostagar." he said. Looking up, he pinched the brow of his nose in frustration, trying to think of some place- ANY place to start.<br/><br/>"Perhaps...." he said, standing and walking around the room. "I've heard rumors of late that there were survivors at Ostagar. Wardens, Milady. Mayhaps finding them, even following their movements could give us some insight as to the best course of action." he said, taking another drink. "Last I heard they were in a tiny village to the south, some place called Lothering."<br/><br/>Unbeknownst to Valerius and his charge, a ruckus was underway in the opposite end of the bar. In the room with a large hearth blazing with fire, those men from before who were boasting about being Crimson Oars were picking another fight. It was over quickly, there was a commotion, sounds of fighting, people crying out in agony, then silence. A group of travelers came from the room covered in blood- a young blonde male warrior, a mystifying young female mage, a red-headed Orlesian girl, and a mabari war hound.<br/><br/>"You know, Morrigan, things were going well until you decided to set his foot on fire." said the young blonde warrior. "My dear Alistair, whatever gave you the impression I wasn't trying to set YOU ablaze?" replied the female mage. As the party of travelers made their way out of the bar and back to their own business, the waitress that was attending to Valerius and Aimil came back to their room. One look was all Valerius needed to tell she was shaken with fear.