Nobody could see just how interested they were in the figure that stepped out of the carriage -- that is, of course, one of the advantages of plate armor. As the driver reached out his hand, a gloved hand took it. Then an elegant boot appeared, followed --pleasantly-- by rather more leg than the silk dress would normally show. The men could not help but notice the charming bounce of her bosom as the lovely woman stepped out of her carriage. The Templars couldn't tell whether the woman was displeased or simply surprised to see the four of them standing by the docks of lake Calenhad; but for one arched eyebrow, her face was placid. She smiled as the coachman handed her parcel to her guards. Looking a little pale, the man pulled out a staff, which the woman took herself.
Four men wearing the King's coat of arms, her guards, followed her towards the docks. For all that four royal guards were an impressive party, the Templars were rather glad she had not brought some of her previous travelling companions with her. The enormous stone golom with a penchant for "head squishing" had been particularly frightening, although the scantily clad maleficar had been almost as upsetting. The woman stood before the Templars and waited for them to speak.
"The Knight-Commander told us to wait for you," a Templar told her, not removing his helm.
"Doubtless, he only wished to honor me with such a fine guard," the woman said. Her tone was equivocal. Certainly it would not be unreasonable for the Hero of Ferelden, the King's own Chancellor and most trusted advisor, to command such a welcome. However, to the Templars, who remembered both her bland, even pleasing, deference as a mage and the bold way she strode into the tower as a Grey Warden, there was an edge they couldn't quite place. Was it mockery, impertinence, simple annoyance, or even worse, challenge?
After a few moments' awkward silence, the woman smiled her most pleasing smile. This too, the Templars remembered, for she had smiled often when passing them on her way to the First Enchanter's office, or the library, or even to the temple she visited more than most mages.
"I suppose it wouldn't really be coming home to the tower without a Templar guard; all mages come here that way," she said, sportingly. "However, it seems we have a rather large and armored party for Kester for ferry across. Perhaps it would be best if you waited for me in Redcliffe," she said, turning to her own guards.
"My Lady, the King ordered us to accompany you."
"I am sure his Majesty will be content that you left me with holy warriors," she said, without a discernible trace of irony. "Tell His Majesty and Eamon what happened and come back on the 15th. I will only be staying a week, then it's on to Orzammar'". The King's men knew a dismissal when they heard one. One handed the nearest Templar the woman's parcel; all four saluted, then walked back towards the inn, where the coach waited with their horses.
The Templars were again disquieted. It was not the natural order of things for mages to give orders, much less to warriors. Nor, the more they looked at her, did her appearance seem at all proper. She did not wear the modest robes all Circle Mages wore, nor even the more risque Tervinter style robes some mages had been allowed to wear into battle. Her dress was fashionable and emphasized her figure. Rather than good fur-lined leather, her boots were shiny and appeared Orlesian, with a heel and pointed toe. They had expected to see her face framed by tendrils escaping from messy pigtails, the careless style she had worn since she was a girl. Instead, she had plaited it and put, of all things, a ribbon through it. They could hear the hum of magic, expensive magic, from her jewelry. She was the picture of an elegant, frivolous noblewoman, except for the mage's staff she had hung on her back. The whole picture was wrong, and a Templar's entire being is finely attuned to wrong. Arnell had returned, not as an enchanter, but as the King's whore.