A Thief Until the Day Death Takes Me

It wasn't often someone forgot who he was and Byron was fully intent on barging ahead and seeing how long he could keep up the charade. More than likely not long, not if some good hearted soul stopped to greet him while he walked about with Franziska but it was worth the attempt. You'll have to forgive me, some things move slow about here, especially when the King is gone, he thought dryly to himself. Though if you had felt particularly put out you could have made more of a ruckus, honestly she had been downright polite to his guards. Or at least that was the impression left seeing how she had been given meals, one of the nicer cells in the dungeon and no guards about all day and night.

As she sidestepped his dog, he pulled the offending creature closer to his side. He would never understand the disdain of others for Mabari, the best hounds one could ever ask for, let alone the best of friends. He kept the slightest bit of insult he felt at it off of his face, for she hadn't said anything yet, and turned his attention briefly to the dog as they started to walk. Samson, side. A simple order, said firm and yet the dog was glued to his side even if the whining showed how much he wished to be allowed to not be.

Well, one couldn't have everything they wanted in life and apparently his betrothed wanting to be actually with him was one of them, the Mabari's freedom to do as he pleased another.

Just a friendly face, here to insure you're dressed and fed for your next adventure, because what else was he to think when one seemed intent on leaving the very place they broke out of? Let alone whatever else trouble was going on with the Antivans. Unless you'd like to go gallivanting about in rags throughout Ferelden?