Kieran and Alistair pass the first hour of the morning in conversation, complete with Kieran pulling out a book every so often to further illustrate a point. One encounter with werewolves doesn't mean Alistair knows everything. A lot of people, unsurprisingly, have a lot of things to say on the subject.

They're interrupted by growling stomachs, and Alistair sheepishly slinking off to the kitchen to find them some breakfast.

He takes a slightly longer way round on the way back: if he can pass through the great hall, that ought to give him a minute to eavesdrop on any incoming news.

...If there were any to be had. Which there isn't.

Damn.

At least it's easier to focus with tea and some hastily-prepared rolls in hand (and belly). Alistair even makes a go at a few chess games while they're waiting. If anyone asks, he's dismal at it because he's starting to fall asleep again. Not because he's doomed to a lifetime of dismalness at chess. Absolutely not.

"You know what was even better than the werewolves," says Alistair at one point, moving his cleric further down the board. "The time your mother took out fifteen darkspawn with a single fireball."

(It can't hurt, he figures, to keep sharing stories of Morrigan as a ferocious warrior capable of walking through any perils unscathed.)