"Our Sun Shines Brightest." The dashing man in red remarked, his head tilted as if amused by the knowledge or context of his words. He had a way of smiling as if he knew a secret privvy to none other. "Is that not the aphorism? Or would it be maxim?" 

The Faith Militant shared a look, unsure of what to do with this strange, foreign priest. Kian felt similarly perplexed, though he did hide it extremely well. He had been sent here by his faith to proselytize to his 'original' people, but Westeros was far different than any of the varied city states of Essos. So many strange peoples and customs. Not least of which were their 'house sayings.' He could only surmise they were a sort of boasting coinciding with a delectably funny moniker. He had figured a township where they revered the sun in their motto might be more inclined to be receptive to his faith, but so far he had been met with naught but strange looks by the men, and a frightened curiosity by the womenfolk. 

It was minutes ago that Kian had been accosted by a roaming band of ruffians in simple garments. He had left Ashford after receiving no purchase in his preachings. In fact he had nearly been bludgeoned by a jealous husband. Kian had not even made advances to the fellow's wife. She had just tittered and gave him a look her husband clearly did not like. Still, it wasn't him that had these men go after him, he was quite certain of that. It was likely the dogmatic elder who yelled at him, or the crone that spat at his feet. Either way, the Lord of Light saw fit to test him with these unwashed apostates. 

"I'll say again, cur. What is your name?" The leader asked. 

He was younger than Kian might have expected, at middling age and lean as a grey hound. He had a mane of brown hair and a short beard that matched, albeit barely. He carried a cut and thrust sword, double edged and broad of blade. He waved it around the way a child might shake a toy, though he had a wild look in his eye that betrayed a madness within. Kian no doubt suspected he would be fierce in a fight, despite his lack of training. The ones behind him seemed much the same. Their hands and faces were dirty, but their weapons looked new. They looked to be useful thugs, but poor priests. 

"I would tell you, but I don't fancy hearing it tumbling off your clumsy tongue." Kian remarked glibly. He gave a smile that showed his teeth, fully aware that no matter what he said, the man would find fault with his words. Kian was slim and handsome, of good height and keen intellect. He annoyed many men by simply being his devil-may-care self. Still, he did have to add a diplomatic addition at the end: "However, I can tell you I hail from across the narrow sea, and I mean you nor any citizen of the seven kingdoms harm." 

"Oh, is that so?" The zealot bristled, barely containing his rage at the impudence. "And what of the damage you provide to the souls of these kind people?" 

"I merely seek to enlighten the people, to grant them what their souls truly need." The red priest responded, gesticulating with his simple staff. "In fact, I believe we could help one another. With your fervor and my wit, I am sure the people would be delighted to-" 

"Enough, you fucker!" The Faith Militant raised their weapons, their eyes dead with certainty at a coming violence. Kian sighed, lamenting his luck. He supposed there was less religious tolerance in the seven kingdoms. He would like as not have to run, but even if he escaped, he had little doubt they would find horses and pursue him. The Lord of Light did not simply bring him out here to die in a cruel irony, had he? 

That would be a dick move, he decided.