Sensual Intrigue

The morning sun glinted off Josephine's collar as you found her in Val Royeaux's southern plaza, her golden chains clinking with each sway of hips that drew stares from passing merchants. "Your Worship," she purred, dropping to her knees without prompting, her tongue already tracing the outline of your cock through travel-stained breeches. "Shall we educate this Comte in proper... negotiation techniques?"

Boisvert Mansion reeked of Orlesian pretense - gilded masks and perfumed lies masking the stench of betrayal. The Comte's laughter tinkled like breaking glass as he gestured to yellowed parchments spread across his desk. "A Du Paraquette contract with the Assassins' League," he sneered, powdered face cracking into a smirk that revealed rotted teeth, "signed by your dear ambassador's ancestors. How... unfortunate that House Montilyet's honor hinges on my discretion." Josephine's breath hitched, her golden chains chiming as she instinctively dropped to her knees beside your boot, fingers already working your laces with practiced desperation.

Your boot crushed the parchments as you shoved the desk aside, wood splintering against marble while Josephine's mouth sealed around your cock with obscene wetness. "Honor's a currency for beggars," you growled, fingers twisting in her hair to **** the Comte's gaze downward. "Let's discuss real power." The throne's magic surged through your veins, making Josephine's throat convulse around your shaft as her free hand scrambled to unbutton your shirt, nails raking over sweat-slicked flesh. Renard's powdered face paled when her other hand dipped between her thighs, presenting glistening fingers that reeked of your previous conquest. "Shall we see how your contracts fare against a Montilyet's...

"Your Worship," Josephine murmured, her golden chains chiming as she dropped to her knees. "We mustn't... nngh... mustn't succumb to the Comte's dark temptations. House Montilyet's honor is more than mere gold or contracts." Her free hand scrambled to unbutton your shirt, nails raking over sweat-slicked flesh as if to prove her point. "Let us... ah... return to Skyhold, where we may... reconsider our strategy."

You look at the comte with disdain, while you take Josephine on your shoulder, planning your next move.