(Very Early Drakonis, 9:41 - post-Teagan's ousting, but sometime pre-In Hushed Whispers resolution - w/ Varric Tethras)A single rider charged toward Haven, upon a well-lathered and pale buckskin horse, startling a train of caravans that seemed likewise bound for the village. It caused commotion and disorder amongst the caravans in question, with the rider weaving precipitously through as though they'd either a point to make or a death wish to fulfill. Overtaking the train somewhere after Haven's exterior gate but before it's inner one, the rider reared their horse before one of the Inquisition's more credulous archers. The young man stepped back while trying to ready his bow and tripped, falling backward. The rider abruptly dismounted, leaving their horse behind and made weighty steps toward the fallen archer. Though clearly armed, Haven's newest arrival made no gesture to draw her weapon just yet. When the young man looked up from where he lay, awkwardly splayed upon the ground, he would see a woman in mail and leather looming over him. Her expression was hard, if also exhausted. Her severe green gaze, piercing through a veil of windswept hair, all but ran him through. "Where are my men," she demanded coolly, if edged with impatience.
"Your... what?" the young man fumbled, in trying to both sort himself out as well as what the armoured woman wanted. His mind spun, trying to place her arms and regimentals but falling short of his recognition of them. They seemed familiar to the western regions of Ferelden, but also not. He righted himself, only to trip over his own foot once more and fall back a second time. The woman pressed toward him still further.
"My men," she repeated, temper rousing to near-murderous, "Where are they! Your sodding lot arrested them not two days past, on the edge of the Hinterlands." She only half stooped, so that she might pull the young man up forcibly to his feet, and only in order to draw him in close enough so that they stood nose to nose. By this point, a contingent of Inquisition soldiers—likely having been alerted to the exchange, or witnessing from afar the woman's reckless ride into Haven—arrived to support their comrade.
"Two horsemen," she stated, ignoring the fact that she was herself now surrounded. She refused to release the young man. Instead, she spoke louder though as severely as before, "Good men. Neither a crime committed between them. Where. Are. They."
"H-horsemen? I-I don't know," the young man stammered, "I-I just joined. I-I don't know. I-I haven't heard—"
One of the archer's armed comrades, concerned for his well-being, grew impatient in waiting for the tense exchange to resolve itself and lunged for the woman with his sword in hand. In a fluid gesture, she threw the young man to the ground, stepped aside, and drew her sword in turn. The clash of steel rung loud and a second standoff, threatening to be far more brief than the first, followed as both swordbearers held their ground. "Those are their horses!" she growled, jutting her chin to the direction of Haven's small paddock. Two horses certainly stood out amongst the others. Saddles alike to the livid woman's own. "Where are they?! I will take this whole damn lot down if I must, so help you—"