Snippet #1735460

It seemed, that in a matter of moments, Anwen had lost her freedom. Already two men jockeyed over what was to be done with her. The man she had healed offered to take her back to Avalin, where she had no desire to return, not with the house of Gheridorn currently holding the reins of power. The King Florian had a bitter and seemingly unprovoked hatred of magic users. Living in Avalin the past two years had been dangerous, especially as Florian seemed to take a personal delight in bringing witches to his castle in Lendal to be burned in front of crowds of his courtiers. It was rumored that the displays were even a bit much for some members of the church, who had long been calling for the exile of magic users from Avalin. It was part of the reason she had decided to leave and travel about other lands to help people. Being sailed back to Avalin could well be a death sentence, so a part of her was rather glad when the centaur, whom apparently was also a Duke, rejected the idea, though part of her was also a bit annoyed about being spoken about as if she were a sheep at market.

“My name is Anwen if it please your Grace.” Anwen replied politely, though it was obvious she was not in favor of the current situation. For now, she could not escape so many men without perhaps greatly injuring someone, which was not her reason for coming to Centerlot, so she would either need to play along until she could escape, or hope the duke kept his word. “What of these lands that border Essyer your Grace? Are there similar laws I should know of?” Would she need to avoid greatly populated areas all together, or hide her identity?