Spirits don't care about those things, he wants to say, and they couldn't grant them anyway, but he doesn't. He'd never say such a thing aloud, not anymore. He knows better. And it isn't so strange, after all, that people would worship the spirits, pray to them, sacrifice to them. They're a hell of a lot more tangible than the Maker. Unlike Him, they're actually present, able to be contacted, and willing to talk. Simon would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn't see the appeal.

"It's not so strange, no," he concedes, rotating his shoulder carefully to see if he can. It's not quite ready for that level of motion. He considers her question, and thinks perhaps he might have to make a couple more concessions into the bargain.

"I did choose it. I always wanted to be a templar. I can't remember a time when I didn't. But we're not all in it of our own accord. Some of the lads I trained with were promised to the Chantry as soon as they were born. Some of them came later because they didn't have any other prospects--too many siblings to inherit anything, too highborn to learn a trade. But we were all sworn to it just the same. I feel sorry now for the ones who didn't want it, but at the time, I just felt like they were spitting in the Maker's face."