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The Seheron heat pressed against every surface in the Qun-held city of Hissera, its stone walls and floors cooking all that touched them. The breeze brought relief, however, the buildings constructed perfectly to funnel it through: from the mountains, it carried the scent of cinnamon; from the coast, that of the ocean; from the jungle, that of fresh leaves (yet always, also that of blood). Today, though, there was a new scent.The island’s Kithshok, along with the Tamassran-iss, the Arigena and the newly instated Hissrad, eyed the equally new Arishok, unconvinced. Before them, a small plate bore a stack of simple-seeming, flour and butter based sweet foods.“...What are they called, did you say?” asked the head of the Tamassran, warily. She eyed the Qun’s new military leader; she did not doubt his abilities in conflict, for if he were worthy of such doubt, he would not be Arishok. Issues of food, however, fell to the Arigena, and issues of foreign influence fell to her. The two women met each other’s gaze, then looked back to the hornless leader of their armed forces.“Cookies,” the new Arishok repeated. “A Ferelden food. Simple in construction, yet worthwhile in result.”Still, the gathered mouthpieces of the Qun looked to each other, concerned.“...What is their nutritious value?”, questioned the Arigena, at length.“A fast delivery of substance, like a small piece of bread,” the Arishok answered. “Sugar for energy. And the taste…” He hesitated. “Aids morale.”The Kithshok grunted. One horn intact, the other ragged, his left eye covered by a patch, the warrior had seen much of Seheron’s brutality. “With respect, Arishok,” he rumbled. “Whilst you were leading the Bas,” - he spat the word - “In their battle against demons, others of us were here, doing the work of the Qun.” A beat of silence passed. “Not that of a lost Taarbas turning Asala-taar without his blade.”Tension filled the room as the group awaited the response. The Arishok did not flinch. “I did not lead the Bas in their war. Only the defense of their capital,” he clarified, with accuracy and without ego. There was no need for ego under the Qun. “Try the cookie. You shall see its application.”Grunting, his jaw setting in a surly desire to disobey - an instinct he expelled with a snort, lest he fall short of Koslun’s teaching - the seasoned fighter reached forwards and took one of the small morsels from the plate. The other Qunari followed suit. The next few seconds passed in silence, except for the various sounds of concentrated chewing.“...They are delicious,” the rumbling Kithshok declared, suddenly.“...They seem necessary,” agreed the Tamassran.“Simple to produce,” concurred the Arigena.The Hissrad did not share their view, but their silence seemed to be one of agreement.The Arishok grunted, satisfied. “I would not say a thing that was not so.”For some moments, only a thoughtful silence existed within the group. At last, the Kithshok spoke up again, speaking the mind of the group.“I want another.”