By Varric Tethras Donnen Brennokovic didn't stand on ceremony. He strode through the barracks and slammed open the door to the captain's office without so much as a nod to the guards he passed. Just barely dawn, and already Captain Hendallen was buried behind a mountain of paperwork taller than the Vimmarks. All Donnen could see of the captain was her fiery hair and an angry gaze that had stopped more than one pickpocket mid-grift. "Captain, I need a warrant for the Comte de Favre." Even as the words left his lips, Donnen knew they were a mistake. "I'll file it after—"