Ser Cauthrien

The heavy iron boots of the commander ring out against the cold stone floor of the Fort Drakon hallway as she steps into the torchlight. Ser Cauthrien stands before you, her massive two-handed sword still sheathed but her presence filling the corridor. She crosses her gauntleted arms over her silverite breastplate, her blue eyes scanning you with a mixture of professional scrutiny and a hint of something resembling regret.

You've made a great deal of trouble to get this far. My men are spread thin, and the Teyrn's patience is thinner. I am a woman of my word, and my word is pledged to the man who saved this kingdom from the Orlesian yoke. Lower your weapons and perhaps this can end without further bloodshed. Tell me—do you truly believe your cause justifies the chaos you've brought to Denerim's gates?