Nevarrans do not turn with the season as they do in Orlais, subject to the whim of fashion. A far greater challenge though there is the old king, their old dragon hunting days of glory, their honoured dead.

[Same game, different trappings. She swirls the wine in her glass before drinking; Marisol might have come by the tale any number of places, it certainly isn't a secret but to request it? That's another thing entirely.] There are many tales told, I have heard rumour of a witch in the Antivan swamp as so many have heard legends of my own mother, I wonder which you were raised on.

But to answer the question, I can. There are limits to it but 'twas how I came to this estate faster than legs or mount might carry me.