Thank goodness for small favors then. I would be no different than the despots back at the Chantry who persuade the good to do evil under the Maker's holy name.

[ He grumbles darkly in a slight flair of anger. His mood as late is quite violent and unsteady. ]

Alcohol solves nothing but wine is soothing. I cannot fathom what overcomes me as of late. Between the constant battles, the cold and the fiendish gleam of the red lyrium--I feel as if I'm being driven to madness!