"Pack," the Templar said as he shoved the door to Hawke's estate open. "I'll wait out here."
"Not much for words, are you?" She tried to force a smile, but it, like her feigned levity, fell flat.
"Messere, I'm allowing you what leeway I can. The Knight-Cap—Commander's orders were to keep you under personal guard, but I'm not one to spy on a woman and her underthings in her private home."
"Thank you," he said. "Andra surely appreciates your discretion."
"I… Yes. Thank you."
"The Knig—former Knight-Commander wasn't a popular woman even a few years ago, but after she took a turn for the worse, well… Some of us were rooting for you and those mages."
"Then I really should thank you for keeping my sister and all the other innocents safe from that lunatic."
The Templar lifted his face shield and nodded. Gruff as his voice was, the man seemed barely a year or two older than Andra, and his face was almost elven-lean. He smiled at both of them and extended a hand which she took with only slight hesitation.
"The apostate, the one who destroyed the Chantry," the man's voice fell to a near whisper, "my mate let him run. You may not see him again."
"I thought you Templars were out for blood," she said. "Especially Chantry-destroying blood."
"Begging your pardon, messere, but some of us still hold to honor. There's no honor in offing someone on secret orders."
"You were going to kill him?" She blanched.
"Andra, did you think the Templars would just let him go after he destroyed the Chantry?" He hadn't thought her that naïve.
"I…" She swallowed and her voice came thick. "No, I just supposed the new Knight-Commander was merciful. He always seemed rational, at the very least."
"If messere doesn't mind me speaking out of turn, the new Knight-Commander only seems rational when one views the alternative."
Andra's laugh came bitter. "I thought the First Enchanter was sane until that thing came bursting out him. I'm not such a good judge of character, am I? You know something, Templar, you remind me of Ser Thrask."
"He was a good man, that Ser Thrask was, until he took up with the blood mage. Kirkwall's an evil place, messere; something's rotten here and it dirties everything it touches. I almost envy you your exile."
"Then it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that we were planning to leave," he said.
"The Champion was to leave her city?"
"And go home," Andra said. "I miss Ferelden, even more when I'm playing shepherd between a possessed Templar and an abomination of a First Enchanter."
"I wonder what the city will do without you, messere. If the former Knight-Commander had allowed the selection of a viscount," the man raised an eyebrow as he eyed Andra, "none of this would have happened."
"Me? You thought I should be viscount?"
"The Champion acts for the benefit of her city, messere."
"Please, I'm no more a diplomat than I am a mage."
"A blade is more effective than diplomacy, Champion." A hint of levity in a Templar?
Andra snorted.
"The city is better off for your apostate friend, messere. Her Grace was aware of problems within our ranks, and did nothing to quell dissent. I wasn't the only one who sought her aid."
"Well, I'm sure Anders would be utterly mortified to hear such praise from one of you, but…"
"Messere seems to have some strange impressions of the Order. Templars are not all of one mind."
"Evidently not," he said. They'd killed enough of the kidnapping conspirators to disavow him of that notion.
"I suppose you're all human," she said.
"Only human. Not an elf among them."
The Templar at least had the good grace to look away. "Go, get ready. I'll let your company in as they arrive. Thank you, Champion."