Plane shift. They're an adventuring party with twenty-six successful contracts and an average ROI of 46%. Osirion. Yes, he plans to leave it and go to Ferelden to fight the Blight.

Can he explain what plane shift is.

It's a spell that powerful clerics and even more powerful wizards can cast to travel to other planes. 

Hm. Is he a mage? Was he operative in casting the plane shift spell?

He is a wizard. He didn't cast the plane shift, they purchased it in Osirion. 

The person asking questions thanks him and tells him to go on out and send the next person in.

They ask Fazil and then Hagan the same set of questions.

They get about the same answers. Fazil asserts that he is a cleric and Hagan asserts that he is their busboy.

They are thanked.

They don't bother asking anything of Aria or the animals.

They wait a while after. Maybe thirty minutes. At that point someone comes in and informs them that their superior would like to meet with them more extensively over dinner tonight, to discuss their presence here and whether Tevinter can be of any assistance with the Blight. They can expect their possessions to be returned afterwards.

"Thank you," says Fazil. 

Then the Templars can take them to see this person's superior.

They're not taken to an office this time. They're taken to a manor house. A big one, with an entrance hall and a central courtyard. An elf about Aria's age is cleaning; she doesn't react to their presence at all. In a corner of the courtyard, an old mage and a child are practicing spells together. It's quiet. Sort of idyllic.

"This is bad."

"Why's that?" says Fazil evenly.

"Not procedure. I don't know what the normal procedure is here but I am pretty sure it doesn't include being invited to people's houses."

"You cannot possibly know what procedure is in Tevinter."

"I know we've attracted way more attention than we want."

"If we can contact the wardens it'll all blow over. Probably."

Fazil is trying not to glance at Hagan. "Stop that," Hagan hisses at him. 

"I don't want to cast Tongues on everyone, I'd rather save my spells for if there is trouble," Mahdi said. "Maybe just you, Fazil, and you can speak for us."

"Okay."

A man in black and gold robes greets them a minute later. He's older; his beard is graying. 

      "Gentlemen! I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. If the four of you would follow me?"

“You miscount, sir," says Draconis, evenly. "There are five of us.”

     “Oh, I’m sorry. Do Fereldans let their dogs eat at their tables?”

 Draconis glares. “Every country has its customs.”

     “Of course. But this is Tevinter, and we prefer ours.”

He looks disgusted. And then he looks at Aria.

She hates this place.

"I guess I'll watch the animals."

"I will also watch the animals," says Hagan, "because my father was an elf."

Fazil looks anxiously at Aria to figure out whether it will be disastrous to translate this.

"Hagan says he'll watch the animals too."

"...I guess there are three of us," sighs Draconis.

     "As you wish," says the - probably magister? "This way."

Fazil and Mahdi follow, not looking back anxiously at Hagan at all.

He sits down on the ground and looks around for locals.

There's the other elf, now sweeping the entryway of dust. The mages in the courtyard have gone somewhere else.

Okay. Fy should go follow Fazil and Mahdi. 

"If there's trouble we should go for the trees, I can do more in a fight there," he says quietly.