...and what of Orlais?

Have some faith in me, Emperor. I wish only to better your country. She smiled, a sinistarly fey smile, at him, reached out to offer her hand to him. The price I will pay is not as much as the price I have paid. Just know that.

Morrigan straightened, fingers curling around his hand, assuming he's taken it. With a wave of her hand, between them appears a ritual circle as if permanently marked into the earth in blood. Calixte would feel something cut into his palm, despite the fact she held no knife.

Her own hand bled, intermingling with the Emperor's lost blood. Her foot tapped against the ground, counting. And once she'd tapped her foot ten times, the wounds to their hands healed.

We will travel to Val Royeaux in the morning. And I will fortify it for the Orlesian people.