I walked all of them when I arrived. But as you can imagine, none of them wanted to speak to me much, if at all.

[ The door is open to him, she's bent over her desk. Taking notes as he talks - but it is not Trade, or English as it might be to her, it is just rows and rows of devangari script. Pouring from one side of the page to the other. Little notes crammed into sections around the block paragraphs.

She looks up when he arrives, gesturing him to come in, take the spot across from her that has clearly been set out for just this. Putting out a clean cup for him and pouring him tea from the pot she had made herself for this. It comes almost automatic, he's not the first in the door, or certainly the last. ] No one ever wants to speak or help such things. [ Once he is seen too, she smooths out the set of the Inquisition uniform, and sits again herself. ] Tell me about the Alienage. It is spoken of in whispers, but no one tells me how such a thing came to be.