The Left Hand of the Divine is still of the Divine. But it's not his place, and while he isn't a boy who shies away from that kind of tone anymore, he still lets himself feel shame. Perhaps not too terribly much, but he understands that it was improper to suggest it as he did.

And it's true enough that, while he still has his loyalties to the late Divine and her wishes, her instructions, and his loyalties to the ideals of the Chantry, they no longer serve the same purpose any longer. It pains him to know the Chantry strikes down the Inquisition so. There's too much splitting and dividing among the major groups, and now it's all in-fighting and civil war. Distracting.

His understanding and agreement of her terms goes unspoken, because it need not be said. So he moves along another line, thread of thought crinkling between his brows. "The balance between the mages and the Templars was always going to come to a head someday," he starts thoughtfully. "But everything's falling apart now. Was Corypheus biding his time to strike when things began to happen, or do you suppose he's behind some of this? Orchestrating sides behind our backs? It's almost too convenient..."