Lasulahn is a gentle, kindhearted man, but his patience has limits, moulded by the oppression of the Dalish. While his people had to be content with muddied fields and living in the elements, While Ferelden nobles camped in the woods on hunts for sport. Alienages were purged on whispers of rebellion, and Tevinters traded in elvhen flesh like produce, Orlesian nobles fussed over whether the velvet on the dining chairs was an out of season colour or not.

Even if he hadn't had such an upbringing, when he travelled as he did, seeing the suffering in Thedas first hand, read the name of every soldier that died under his command, saw food shortages, and terrorised children, and people freezing to death because of rebels and bandits and rogue Templars... it was difficult to not quickly lose patience with the trivial whining of various nobles... or the self-important attitudes of Chantry sisters that had nerve to claim Leliana and Cassandra were "just two souls" for the Inquisition, but critically important for the next Divine to be decided, regardless of Corypheus still threatening them.

"Ah, there are some words that have no translation in the common tongue, I forget sometimes others don't know them. Arlathvhen is the meeting Dalish clans have once every ten years. It lasts for two days, and in that time, clans exchange artefacts we've found, and things we've learned. We also tell stories, to make sure we remember correctly, and do not lose what precious little history we still have."

Lasulahn smiles. "It perhaps does not seem like much, but it is." The idea of an allied Tevinter seemed far away, but perhaps not impossible.