[ Still resting against Astarion, Iorveth downs another mouthful of mulled wine; as if on cue, Hyacinth brushes by on her way to another table and rests a rather expensive-looking bottle next to Iorveth's empty glass. She's taken the hint.

Ignoring the woman completely (despite the hypnotic sway of her hips): ] Mm. [ The grand problem of what comes after this strange detour in all of their lives. ] Depending on how welcome my presence is in the north at the moment [ not very welcome, if Ciaran's reports are true ], we may have to spend a few tendays here. Or elsewhere－ whatever suits.

[ The price of regicide. The people get to enjoy the benefits of not having a tyrant presiding over them, but the killer still needs to be punished for, well, being a killer. ]

Have you anything in mind? Of what you'd like to try.