The Templars had caught the scent of magic; the chase was on. They felt the lyrium hum in their veins, seeking a path to the alienage, noses sharp, like a pack of bloodthirsty mabari war hounds. They stumbled into a ramshackle little inn of places, searching in droves. They rounded up a family of elves, pulling a little Lorelei out of her aunt's room by her hair and holding her hostage. They knew not who the magic was from, only that they showed no precaution in what was "obviously" a dangerous and frivolous display of power. The Templars showed no mercy, cutting the throats of the elf's brothers, sisters, mother and father. The only one surviving was luckily under her blankets, safe and sound, while Lorelei bit back a scream, watching as her beloved family, family that meant everything to her, crumpling into nothing at the might of the Templar's blade. The young woman sunk to her knees, murmuring prayers in Dalish to their Old Gods, and the Templars paused, unsure of what to do. "Well… She's young. She'd sell well." A gruff commander said, dragging her up by the arm and through the streets. The slave trade was "illegal", but "indentured servitude" was certainly not. Before she knew it, Lorelei was stripped, washed and sold to the highest bidding noble family, in need of a new handmaiden for their daughter, Valeria, finding the elf Lorelei to be the perfect fit. They renamed her Lora, not wanting any part of her "elf nonsense". It was when she was escorted to their home in the city where the real surprise came; the Duchess herself.