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[[OOC: 18th Wintermarch, 9:36, late morning]] Bernie
During the journey to and from Orzammar, Sofia had determined that she was going to acclimatise to Ferelden’s weather. She had finally accepted that this was not going to happen, but she was still taken aback by how bitter it was this morning. If it hadn’t been for the necessity to restock a few of the herbs it was impossible to cultivate herself at this time of year, she would have spent a happy afternoon in the compound library, brushing up on her theory of magical healing while sipping at a warmed glass of wine.
Instead she was wrapped in as many layers as she was capable of wearing at once, her hood pulled up against the biting wind, and she was still cold. She would go about this quickly and then run back to the compound - or at least that was the idea. The streets nearest her favourite apothecary were jammed with people, fighting to get around a cart that had broken an axel after the wheels had got caught in thick mud. She also had Roland on her tail as her companion, and while he was a sweet-natured man he was also not good at negotiating his way through crowds. Twice already she’d heard him call her name and looked back to find him some way behind, and had suffered curses as she had to wait for him and blocked other peoples’ path. Nobody dared shove, though. Even under all her furs, the Warden uniform was unmistakeable.
Then to add insult to injury, the apothecary was closed, and they had to trail halfway across the market district to another one. At least she found what she was looking for there, but on the way back, Roland disappeared into the crowd again. Sofia tried standing on her toes, looking for him, but almost every man in the area was either sporting the same rain-frizzed hair or a hat, and she wasn’t quite tall enough to get a good view. It would be impossible to find him here; better to return to the main square and try and spot him there, or make a quick return to the compound.
To ease her passage, Sofia decided to take a risk and ducked down a side street, not congested with shoppers. The first part of her plan worked beautifully and she would only have to spend a few seconds walking as opposed to minutes fighting her way through the press of bodies. The second - to move quickly before any trouble occurred - did not, and before she took five steps, she heard the sound of clanking armour.
“Halt, mage.”
Sofia turned. The templar was a tall one, manner officious, but there was a cold gleam in his eye that she didn’t like at all. Nonetheless she fell back on her usual response, which was cheerful compliance. “Ah, Ser Templar! The weather is truly horrible today, yes? Apologies for my lack of a companion - I lost him in the crowd. Perhaps you could escort me back to the market square and we could try to find him together?”
“I’m not falling for your wiles.” He stepped closer; his sword had already been drawn before he spoke to her, which suggested he wanted this to turn ugly. “The Warden name only protects you when you follow the rules, and you broke them by going unaccompanied.”
That was a patent lie. The companions rule had been set by Nathaniel, to avoid this very sort of situation. Sofia hid gritted teeth behind a smile. “I think you’ve been misinformed, ser. Wardens are free to go as they please, mage or no; we just chose not to, for the public’s peace of mind.”
“I don’t care if you’re a Warden or not.” The templar’s lips had drawn back from his teeth in an ugly sneer. “Your fancy title can’t protect you here. You’re an apostate, and our rules are pretty clear on what we do with apostates.”
“You give them the chance to surrender peacefully, take them to the Chantry to report them to the local Captain, and then things proceed in a diplomatic fashion from there.”
“Well, yes.” That he’d conceded the point offered Sofia no comfort. “But you already touched your staff.” She’d reached for it on reflex when she knew she wasn’t alone; she’d let go since. “So I can assume you planned to attack me.”
He raised his sword and Sofia felt the pull of mana; she’d suspected that he would turn nasty, she just had hoped it wouldn’t happen quite so fast. On instinct, she summoned a rock from the Fade and shot it in his direction - hopefully the Commander would forgive her for this later - and it hit his midsection, but not before the smite hit her. There was little way to prepare for it, and her knees sagged; she gripped the staff, trying to stay upright as the cursing templar scrambled to his feet. “I’m going to put you in the dirt, mage bitch!”
During the journey to and from Orzammar, Sofia had determined that she was going to acclimatise to Ferelden’s weather. She had finally accepted that this was not going to happen, but she was still taken aback by how bitter it was this morning. If it hadn’t been for the necessity to restock a few of the herbs it was impossible to cultivate herself at this time of year, she would have spent a happy afternoon in the compound library, brushing up on her theory of magical healing while sipping at a warmed glass of wine.
Instead she was wrapped in as many layers as she was capable of wearing at once, her hood pulled up against the biting wind, and she was still cold. She would go about this quickly and then run back to the compound - or at least that was the idea. The streets nearest her favourite apothecary were jammed with people, fighting to get around a cart that had broken an axel after the wheels had got caught in thick mud. She also had Roland on her tail as her companion, and while he was a sweet-natured man he was also not good at negotiating his way through crowds. Twice already she’d heard him call her name and looked back to find him some way behind, and had suffered curses as she had to wait for him and blocked other peoples’ path. Nobody dared shove, though. Even under all her furs, the Warden uniform was unmistakeable.
Then to add insult to injury, the apothecary was closed, and they had to trail halfway across the market district to another one. At least she found what she was looking for there, but on the way back, Roland disappeared into the crowd again. Sofia tried standing on her toes, looking for him, but almost every man in the area was either sporting the same rain-frizzed hair or a hat, and she wasn’t quite tall enough to get a good view. It would be impossible to find him here; better to return to the main square and try and spot him there, or make a quick return to the compound.
To ease her passage, Sofia decided to take a risk and ducked down a side street, not congested with shoppers. The first part of her plan worked beautifully and she would only have to spend a few seconds walking as opposed to minutes fighting her way through the press of bodies. The second - to move quickly before any trouble occurred - did not, and before she took five steps, she heard the sound of clanking armour.
“Halt, mage.”
Sofia turned. The templar was a tall one, manner officious, but there was a cold gleam in his eye that she didn’t like at all. Nonetheless she fell back on her usual response, which was cheerful compliance. “Ah, Ser Templar! The weather is truly horrible today, yes? Apologies for my lack of a companion - I lost him in the crowd. Perhaps you could escort me back to the market square and we could try to find him together?”
“I’m not falling for your wiles.” He stepped closer; his sword had already been drawn before he spoke to her, which suggested he wanted this to turn ugly. “The Warden name only protects you when you follow the rules, and you broke them by going unaccompanied.”
That was a patent lie. The companions rule had been set by Nathaniel, to avoid this very sort of situation. Sofia hid gritted teeth behind a smile. “I think you’ve been misinformed, ser. Wardens are free to go as they please, mage or no; we just chose not to, for the public’s peace of mind.”
“I don’t care if you’re a Warden or not.” The templar’s lips had drawn back from his teeth in an ugly sneer. “Your fancy title can’t protect you here. You’re an apostate, and our rules are pretty clear on what we do with apostates.”
“You give them the chance to surrender peacefully, take them to the Chantry to report them to the local Captain, and then things proceed in a diplomatic fashion from there.”
“Well, yes.” That he’d conceded the point offered Sofia no comfort. “But you already touched your staff.” She’d reached for it on reflex when she knew she wasn’t alone; she’d let go since. “So I can assume you planned to attack me.”
He raised his sword and Sofia felt the pull of mana; she’d suspected that he would turn nasty, she just had hoped it wouldn’t happen quite so fast. On instinct, she summoned a rock from the Fade and shot it in his direction - hopefully the Commander would forgive her for this later - and it hit his midsection, but not before the smite hit her. There was little way to prepare for it, and her knees sagged; she gripped the staff, trying to stay upright as the cursing templar scrambled to his feet. “I’m going to put you in the dirt, mage bitch!”