In the way that noble families do, in Ferelden. Opposition to their proposals during Landsmeets, sabotaging their agendas.

[ He's looking for messages in the patterns of those fingers on his. He's strangely comforted when none emerge. How strangely lovely it is, to talk as two normal men might talk. Not spies. Not using all their wiles to dissect the problems before them. Just two people muddling through. ]

Tragically, raiding their lands for their cattle and setting fire to their homes went out of favor when we started calling ourselves Fereldans instead of Alamarri.