Part of Asher's regular routine involves coming up from the valley camp to train in Skyhold since there's a proper space for it rather than the crowded sprawl of tents, especially his own pitch with his whole mercenary company all clustered together in a little ring, decorated with kaddis. His old mabari hound is with him as ever, a mass of scars with one eye so white it's clearly sightless and another ear mostly missing, greying at the muzzle.

Yet for all that, he charges at his master when commanded, a tall man with his hair shaved at the sides but braided back at his scalp, running through a series of drills; the wrist, the ankle, the throat, behind and flank, so on and so forth.

And because he's a good lad, the best lad, aren't you old boy, on a particular charge the warrior catches the hound and heaves him up, turning around to meet her eye, man and dog both staring. The dog at least barks, but mabari have slightly more manners than part-Fereldan, part-Avvar mercenaries.