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Your rescue was a success! You put spurs to your horse! The Bard's arms are tight around you as you race from the woods. The trees thin, then part. Ahead are patchwork fields and dozing villages. A mill wheel turns against the sky. And there in the distance: Châteaux Serault, tall on its river-crag...
When he's sure the woods are behind you, the Bard slumps in relief. "Sweet-bosomed Andraste, it's good to be back! As employers go, the Horned Knight is kind enough - although mad as a badger - but I'm too old for sleeping on greensward and drinking spring water. You! Fetch me a mattress. No, three mattresses! And some sodding wine!
"Ask your questions quickly, Marquis. I've been sober for days and I'm starting to remember things. Unless I drink an elephantine quantity of your very worst wines I might regain the capacity to feel guilt.
"You know what the so-called 'Lord of the Forest' had me doing? Penning a ballad called 'The Shame of Serault'. He's obsessed with it. Both the event and the man. Thinks of nothing else."
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