"The Venatori," Her voice cracks up sharp. She draws herself to full height, chin jutting directly into James' face. The point of the sword doesn't stray from earth — not a threat. Not yet. "Will not discriminate! Poor, mistreated; rich, empowered! Mage, slave, freeman and noble,"

A vicious jab of the hand to Thor, Loki. Yes, very well that they suffer at established hands,

"Do you think the hungry will look to the Inquisition? They will look to their rulers. If you wish your nation to live, you will not entrench its occupiers now."

"We are past the time of small decisions. Men and women will die here, for siege, or for Darkspawn rule. We choose how many more will die beyond these walls. We choose whether this comes to us."