Sawtooth Spire the art of war is of vital

❝and i her,❞ wintersbane replies in a soft rumble, like thunder just before the storm; the tundrian has by and far come to realize that not all flames were meant to last. no one could've predicted the fey queen's untimely death but it befell her all the same ...and wintersbane, used to carrying on despite the death of a woman he loved, knows that life will and does continue. ❝alas, not all things are meant to last.❞ words give voice to his thought, to his unfortunate experience in this particular area.

❝a pleasure, gracious.❞ wintersbane returns the exchange of names with a gentlemanly dip of his head. there are few of courtfall he had yet to make official acquaintance with, the fault of which lay strictly with himself. having been so consumed with andraste — only to feel the burn of her supernova when she died — he now feels guilt for not striving to know the wolves that would follow him.

❝i doubt they would speak ill of us after agreeing to the merger. or at all, really,❞ wintersbane says flatly, scarred brow twitching. ❝we were allies before. an alliance that andraste struck but that has obviously survived her.❞ still, the fact that wintersbane has, thus far, been able to get along with both mahler and wylla — and in fact, respects them — is miracle. at least from the leader point, the merger appears to have gone seamlessly and for a better mixture the tundrian couldn't have asked for.