Killian Tavus had been watching the Darkspawn in the distance, silently wondering how many he would have been able to destroy before they overwhelmed him had he remained at the family estate rather than fleeing with the other servants when the beasts had come marching south from the capital. Tevinter wasn't perfect, he knew that better than most, but it was his homeland and he loved it. Leaving as the Darkspawn destroyed his home had been the second most painful experience of his life and now all he could think about was going back.

His contemplations were suddenly interrupted by the decidedly vulgar invocations of the older man who joined him and the young Orlesian woman at the meeting place. Killian had always had an ear for accents and the newcomer's rang clearly of Ferelden. Many in the Magisterium thought of nations outside of the Imperium as less civilised, and Fereldens in particular were thought of as little better than their barbarian Avaar cousins. Killian was one of the few who did not hold to such negative stereotypes, and yet this man's manner helped Killian to understand why others might hold such views.

The young Magister cleared his throat and gave the newcomer a polite smile, though no bow. "Killian Tavus, at your service as well, Mr Roche." He said formally. It seemed that Killian had only two modes: Stiff and formal or silent and brooding. "I am a Magister of the Imperium, such as it is..." He illustrated his last point with a vague wave towards the north.