"Templars," He mumbles. "Inquisition, March. 'S armies all the way down."

Maybe it wasn't always going to be that way. The Inquisition meant different things, to different people; with its mage council, and its pilgrims, and its hope for a tighter solution. A clean end. Cedric rolls onto an elbow.

"Reckon kids care more'n collectors, anyway. Everyone remembers some toy they had," Did Astrid snap that leg? "Auntie what made it."