The Inquisitor had not a mabari

It was getting dark. The pure sun of the Frostback Mountains painted the ancient walls of the fortress in scarlet color, like bloodstain from ripped belly of the dragon. The Inquisitor trembled, regreting again, she couldn’t persuade Cullen to move to warmer living quarters which there are countless in a huge castle. “And where does he sleep?” the obsessive idea appeared in her head, when Trevelian stepped over the threshold of the commander’s office. The riddle, however, was solved immediately, when in search of forty-eight volumes of “Hard in Hightown” the Inquisitor found one on the second floor. He lay quietly on the nightstand. That’s good, this one, not “Swords and Shields”… or what did the Pentaghast read there? “Inquisitor?” And why he is always surprised? “Cullen?” There was a silence. The roar of the wind break into the narrow loophole. It’s cold. “So what can I do for you, Inquisitor?” “Tell me, Cullen…” Lady Trevelyan smiled a little, shortening the distance between herself and the man exactly up to one table. “Is Skyhold located in the territory of Ferelden?” “Yes.” “Is there a mabari in Ferelden?” “Yeah …” “Then why don’t we have a mabari?” Cullen thought about it. And the truth, why? “Probably, they have ended.” The templar said not very confidently, avoiding a direct look at the Inquisitor. “So, they ended?” Cullen coughed into a fist. “I assumed…” “Then you mean you’re not sure?” The templar swallowed, feverishly concocting an excuse to get away from a strange conversation with the Inquisitor, but nothing came to mind except one. “I can send soldiers, they will find mabari…” “It’s too simple,” she muttered to herself thoughtfully, leaving the office, leaving the perplexed man alone with the idea about mabari.