"It's an alienage. Kirkwall's alienage. Can't imagine folk were lining up to come here unless they've got family from here or mates. Toss up between this place and Darktown for last place you'd care about in a disaster, and y'know, more humans in Darktown." That's a horrible way to put it but Yngvi's just laying it out flat here if Herian's doing it, not trying to sound rude but that sort of false cheer from someone who's heard that told to him, who sat there and just...heard it. Like a slap that came that you can't really do a thing about. "They'd end up with that weird one they got in Halamshiral. Had a whiff of Kirkwall but the wrong bits y'know?" Something to unsettle him, to set his teeth on edge when he'd put hands on it. Punched it for his lady.

Or they'd end up with that garden he can't look at. The one he talks around in all the other letters he's written.

"Nicer vhenadahl than the one in Gwaren or Denerim, always painted up real nice, little lanterns 'bout it. If I didn't know they'd freeze like every other trap I'd offer to set some down but - and you didn't hear this from me - I raided every office I could get into for something to keep the hinges going." Cramming some food in his mouth gets him to shut up about crimes he did not commit because the doors were open and possession is nine-tenths of the law so seeing as he now possesses all the lubrication his traps need, that's all his, no crime has taken place, there was never any crime Knight-Enchanter serah!